Casabianca

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Felicia Dorothea Hemans portrait

1793 to 1835

Poem Image
Track 1

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

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