From this vile Gun-boat Expedition;
From winds and waves, and wounds and scars,
From British soldiers, British tars,
To his own house, where, free from danger,
Muskein may live at rack and manger;
May stretch his limbs in his own cot,[[288]]
Thankful he has not gone to pot;
Nor for the bubble Glory strive,
But bless himself that he’s alive!
Havre,[[289]] sweet Havre! hail again,