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Felicia Dorothea Hemans - Casabianca
Work rating: Medium

The boy stood on the burning deck 
Whence all but he had fled; 
The flame that lit the battle`s wreck 
Shone round him o`er the dead. 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 
As born to rule the storm; 
A creature of heroic blood, 
A proud, though childlike form. 

The flames roll`d on…he would not go 
Without his father`s word; 
That father, faint in death below, 
His voice no longer heard. 

He call`d aloud…"Say, father,say 
If yet my task is done!" 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 
Unconscious of his son. 

"Speak, father!" once again he cried 
"If I may yet be gone!" 
And but the booming shots replied, 
And fast the flames roll`d on. 

Upon his brow he felt their breath, 
And in his waving hair, 
And looked from that lone post of death, 
In still yet brave despair; 

And shouted but one more aloud, 
"My father, must I stay?" 
While o`er him fast, through sail and shroud 
The wreathing fires made way, 

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, 
They caught the flag on high, 
And stream`d above the gallant child, 
Like banners in the sky. 

There came a burst of thunder sound… 
The boy-oh! where was he? 
Ask of the winds that far around 
With fragments strewed the sea. 

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 
That well had borne their part; 
But the noblest thing which perished there 
Was that young faithful heart.
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