Casabianca

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Felicia Dorothea Hemans portrait

1793 to 1835

Poem Image
Track 1

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

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