The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
157
CASABIANCA.
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.
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 child-like form.
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like 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.
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.
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.
“If I may yet be gone!”
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames roll'd on.
158
Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And look'd from that lone post of death,
In still, yet brave despair.
And in his waving hair,
And look'd from that lone post of death,
In still, yet brave despair.
And shouted but once more aloud,
“My Father! must I stay?”
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.
“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.
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 strew'd the sea!—
The boy—oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strew'd the sea!—
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part—
But the noblest thing which perish'd there
Was that young faithful heart!
That well had borne their part—
But the noblest thing which perish'd there
Was that young faithful heart!
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |