James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
August 1Casabianca
By Felicia Dorothea Hemans (17931835)
T
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle’s wreck
Shone round him o’er the dead.
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.
Without his father’s word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
If yet my task is done?”
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
“If I may yet be gone!”
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death
In still, yet brave despair.
“My father! must I stay?”
While o’er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
The boy—O! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!—
That well had borne their part—
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young, faithful heart!