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the boy stood on the burning deck whence all but he had fled;the flame that lit the battle's wreck shone round hom o'er the dead.

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 my task is done!"he knew not that the chieftan lay unconcious before 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 thier breath,and 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 splendor wild,they caught the flag on high,and streamedabove 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 strewed 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.