Felicia Hemans

  1. The boy stod on the burning deck,
    Whence all but him had fled;
    The flame that lit the battle's wreck
    shone round him o'er the dead.

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

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

  4. He called aloud - "Say, father, say
    If yet my task is done?"
    He knew not that the chieftain lay
    Unconscious of his son.

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

  6. Upon his brow he felt their breath,
    And in his wavung hair;
    And looked from that lone post of death
    In still, yet brave despair:

  7. 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.

  8. 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!

  9. With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
    That well had borne their part -
    But the noblest thing that perished there
    Was that young, faithful heart.

© Felicia Hemans

Put into WWW by Josella Simone Playton
1997-09-13 18:00:00 MEST .. 1999-07-02 20:33:02 MEST

Zurück zu meiner Hauptseite