#casabianca

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,   As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood,   A proud, though child-like 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, say   If yet my task is done?' He knew not that the chieftain lay   Unconscious 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 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.

Heroic pose. "The boy stood on the burning deck ..."

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Casabianca,the 12 years old boy who stands beside his Father during the Battle of the Nile,1 August 1798  drawn by Lafitte, engraved by Pourvoyeur. 1807 (x)

During the Battle of the Nile, not only was a birth completed and a lieutenant saved his life, but a son also died alongside his father. This picture here shows the moment when the boy finds his dying father. The man was Admiral Luc-Julien-Joseph Casabianca commander of the French flagship L'Orient, the ship was under heavy attack during the battle and so Casabianca ordered his son, just 12 years old, to a safe part of the ship. He did this to protect him.

The death of Admiral Casabianca and his son at the Battle of the Nile, 1798, 19th century (x)

Felicia Dorothea Hemans -  Young Casabianca, son to the Admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the Battle of the Nile) after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned, and perished in the explosion of the vessel.

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 child-like 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! say  If yet my task is done!” He knew not that the chieftain lay  Unconscious 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 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!—