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Napoleon's Return. [centered]

A bark has left St. Helens isle,
A Prince is at the helm,
She bears an Exiled Emperor
Back to his ancient realm.

No joyous shout bursts from her crew,
As o'er the waves they glance,
But silently, through foam and spray,
They seek the shore of France.

A Soldier comes! Hustle, comrades, haste
To greet him on this strand,
'Tis long since by his side you fought
For glory's chosen land.