Classic Poem

The spotted pard, although the yoke be slight,
Doth bow his neck thereto; the tiger's might,
For all his rage, is by a rod controlled,
And the wild ass doth champ a curb of gold;
The Libyan bear is guided by a bit.
And monster bisons to the rein submit;
A purple halter guides a mighty boar
Vast as the brute in Calydon of yore;
Obedient to a swarthy master's will
Leviathan displays a dancer's skill!
Who would not deem a miracle was here?
Yet doth a marvel greater still appear.
See how the lordly lions condescend
On swift but timid hares their might to spend;
They catch, set free, and gambol with the prey
That safe within their gaping maw doth play.
Freely the quarry passes to and fro
Through fangs that seem to dread the puny foe;
In sooth 'tis generous shame that doth restrain
The might that late a lordly bull hath slain.
Could human art have taught them pity? Nay,
'Tis Caesar's law of mercy these obey.