Casabianca
Felicia Dorothea Hemans
1793 to 1835
Track 1
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"Speak, Father!" once again he cried
They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
But the noblest thing which perished there
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
Without his Father's word;
"My Father, must I stay?"
"If I may yet begone!
Upon his brow he felt their breath,
As born to rule the storm;
And looked from that lone post of death,
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
His voice no longer heard.
There came a burst of thunder sound—
And shouted but once more aloud,
Like banners in the sky.
A proud, though child-like form.
Ask of the winds that far around
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
And fast the flames roll'd on.
In still yet brave despair.
If yet my task is done?"
And streamed above the gallant child,
They caught the flag on high,
Unconscious of his son.
That well had borne their part—
A creature of heroic blood,
That Father, faint in death below,
The boy stood on the burning deck
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Shone round him o'er the dead.
And"—but the booming shots replied,
The boy—oh! where was he?
Whence all but him had fled;
The wreathing fires made way,
With fragments strewed the sea!
He call'd aloud:—"Say, Father, say
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
And in his waving hair,
Was that young faithful heart!
The flames roll'd on—he would not go