Casabianca

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair,

And looked 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,

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,

And streamed 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 strewed the sea!

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,

That well had borne their part—

But the noblest thing which perished there

Was that young faithful heart!