Classic Poem

Of French Mules.

Behold the docile children of fast-flowing Rhone that at their master's word come together and at that word disperse. See how they go this way or that according to the different cries he utters, and, guided only by his voice, take the path he would have them take. Though each unguided by the rein takes his own course and no collar presses upon their necks they obey as though harnessed and, insensible to fatigue, hear and follow the directions shouted by their barbarous master. Though far away from their owner they nevertheless respect his commands, obeying the word of the muleteer as it were a bridle. It is his voice that even at a distance gathers them together when scattered or scatters them when gathered together; this that checks their haste or quickens their dragging steps. Does he shout " left, " they turn them to the left: does he alter his cry to " right, " to the right they go. Slaves, yet without bonds, free, but without licence, they go unbridled but obedient. Covered with tawny pelts they haul along the rumbling carts, each cheerfully doing his fair share. Dost thou wonder that Orpheus tamed the wild beasts with his song when the words of a Gaul can guide these swift-footed mules?