CHARLES KINGSLEY.

 CASABIANCA.

“Casabianca,” by Felicia Hemans (1793-1835), is the portrait of a faithful heart, an example of unreasoning obedience.  It is right that a child should obey even to the death the commands of a loving parent.

    The boy stood 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.

    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, 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.

    Then came a burst of thunder sound—­
      The boy—­oh! where was he? 
    —­Ask of the winds that far around
      With fragments strew the sea;

    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.

 THE CAPTAIN’S DAUGHTER.

“The Captain’s Daughter,” by James T. Fields (1816-81), carries weight with every young audience.  It is pointed to an end that children love—­viz., trust in a higher power.

    We were crowded in the cabin,
      Not a soul would dare to sleep,—­
    It was midnight on the waters,
      And a storm was on the deep.

   ’Tis a fearful thing in winter
      To be shattered by the blast,
    And to hear the rattling trumpet
      Thunder, “Cut away the mast!”

    So we shuddered there in silence,—­
      For the stoutest held his breath,
    While the hungry sea was roaring
      And the breakers talked with Death.

    As thus we sat in darkness,
      Each one busy with his prayers,
   “We are lost!” the captain shouted
      As he staggered down the stairs.

    But his little daughter whispered,
      As she took his icy hand,
   “Isn’t God upon the ocean,
      Just the same as on the land?”