“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! He shouted yet 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. 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. MRS. HEMANS. ―――― EXPLOITS OF THE EMINENT I. (The character of Macbeth was not one of Mr. Irving’s theatrical successes.) Macbeth stood on the new built stage, Whence all but he had fled; The flame that lit his tragic rage Shone round his classic head. Yes――beautiful and bright he stood, A stalwart, graceful form, And raved about old Duncan’s blood, Whose corpus still was warm. (_Six verses omitted here._) The gods applaud with thunder sound: Irving――O! Where was he? Ask of the wise ones grouped around, Who came _Macbeth_ to see. His eye had then no lurid glare, He bowed, with grateful heart; But a noble thing was murdered there―― ’Twas Shakespeare’s tragic art, _The Figaro_, October 13, 1875. ―――― THE MULE. The Mule stood on the steamboat deck, For the land he would not tread; They tied an halter round his neck And whacked him on the head, Yet obstinate and braced he stood, As born the sea to rule, A creature of the old pack brood, A stubborn steadfast mule. They cursed and swore, but he would not go Until he felt inclined, And though they thundered blow on blow, He altered not his mind. The ship’s boy to his master cried, “The varmint’s bound to stay,” And still upon that old mule’s hide The sounding lash made play. His master from the shore replied, The ship’s about to sail, And as all other means you’ve tried, Suppose you twist his tail; I think that that will make him land. The ship’s boy, brave though pale, Then nearer drew, with outstretched hand, To twist that old mule’s tail.