Casabianca

 Casabianca

Felicia Hemans

The boy stood on the burning deck,Whence all but he had fled;The flame that lit the battle’s wreck,Shone round him o’er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,As born to rule the storm;A creature of heroic blood,A proud, though childlike form.

The flames rolled on – he would not go,Without his father’s word;That father, faint in death below,His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud – ‘Say, father, sayIf yet my task is done?’He knew not that the chieftain layUnconscious of his son.

‘Speak, father!’ once again he cried,‘If I may yet be gone!’– And but the booming shots replied,And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breathAnd in his waving hair;And look’d 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 wrapped 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 aroundWith 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.
A very famous poem at my middle school level which injected Loyalty and to the obedience to father's word. I wish to share this story to Aryan and Anikha through podcast.