Classic Poem

Where great Pike's Peak his summit rears
'Mid foot-hills robed in richest brown,
And o'er the Great Plains proudly peers —
A monarch he with snowy crown, —
There high above the ocean's tides,
A famed, historic mule resides.

Upon the Peak's supremest heights,
Brave men a tireless vigil keep;
'Tis they who, with unerring sight,
Spy storms afar that onward sweep,
And herald to the world below
When sun shall shine or tempest blow.

From plain to mountain's crest there leads,
Round cliff and chasm's brink, a trail;
Sure feet, indeed, the creature needs
Who safe the dizzy heights would scale,
Where one false step the wretch might throw
O'er precipice to death below.

Of all the beasts that climb this trail,
'Tis Balaam (so our mule is named)
Whose history forms the strangest tale,
Whose exploits are so justly famed —
" Old Prob's " most trusty delegate,
For Western things to regulate.

For full eight years has Balaam toiled
This signal service to perform,
His coat with dust of summer soiled,
His marrow chilled by wintry storm;
And now old age comes on apace,
But find of waning powers no trace.

This ancient, grizzled mule I sought,
If haply he'd be interviewed;
Since sure in Holy Wright 'tis taught,
How, where the barring angel stood,
A prophet, who was sure no saint,
Had listened to an ass's plaint.

Perhaps long residence on heights,
Where all know that the air is thin,
May have induced the airy flights
Of romance this mule reveled in,
Or mighty sweep of range and plain
Have gauged the workings of his brain.

But sure it is no poet's ear
E'er listened to a stranger tale;
The rocks re-echoed far and near,
The poet's face grew ashy pale,
As Balaam brayed sonorously,
His most astounding history.

He told of high-born ancestry,
Of noble sire and gentle dam,
Brothers and sisters, gay and free,
And his young life so bright and calm;
He traced a long, unbroken line
Of proud relations asinine.

Ambitions soon this scion seized
Which amply proved his pedigree;
He would go West, were parents pleased,
The Great Plains and the mountains see;
Nor should he e'er in quiet rest
Till he had climbed the Rocky's crest.

That he, this scheme which genius shows,
Found ways and means to carry out,
No one who mulish methods knows
Could ever have a lingering doubt.
It may suffice us now to say
That, like all mules, he had his way.

So now, his true vocation found,
He started on a proud career,
From plain to summit safe and sound
He carried hundreds every year —
Ladies who shrieked at steep ascent,
And many a scared but silent gent.

All this and more Old Balaam tells,
And feels his youth renewed thereby;
But now his bray in anger swells
And visciously his heels do fly,
While laboring to me to rehearse
His shameful wrongs in halting verse.

" I was a faithful mule, " he said
" And meant to do the honest thing;
How was I shocked one night in bed,
To hear a sharp, resounding ring
That said, by click of telegraph,
My feed must be reduced one-half!

" The civil service, so it said,
At last has got to be reformed,
A start must somewhere soon be made,
This citadel corrupt be stormed;
But, since big guns might fire back
They'd try at first a Pike's Peak jack.

" All this was too much to be borne;
My plans with lightning speed were made,
And I was free before the morn
Escaped by strategy deep laid,
And guided to the plains below,
By the volcano's lurid glow.

" When I was down scarce half the way,
Three mountain lions gave me chase,
I met them: one yet lives they say,
The rest in fragments sail through space!
All who seen my backward reach
Will know that solemn truth I teach.

" This victory gained, I came to where
A stream of lava crossed the trail;
The fiery current singed my hair,
I labored, but without avail
To cross the seething, boiling tide
That must have beeen full ten yards wide.

" At last I spied a pine-crowned hill,
O'er topping quiet the highest flame,
Upon its crest I waited till
A " Colorado zephr" came,
Then with my ample ears set sail,
And over sped before the gale!

" So now I'm on my way to see
The head men of the Narrow Gauge;
If they'll but listen to my plea
And these my burning wrongs assuage,
Between us yet, I have no fears,
We'll take the whole world by the ears.

" I'll ask them to extend their rail,
Clear to the summit of the Peak,
Run opposition to the trail,
And all that Signal Service clique;
" Old Prob" shall yet bewail the day
When he put Balaam on half-pay.

" The Rio Grand runs, I hear,
O'er cloud-wrapped summits, 'mid the snow,
Clambers where mountain sheep might fear,
Or winds through canyons far below,
Success shall yet my efforts crown;
Farewell, I'm off for Denver town! "

With heels and tail aloft in air,
Old Balaam scampers o'er the plain,
While lifts the poet's conscious hair
And wildly throbs his swelling brain,
At thoughts of what e'en mules may dare
In this great country of light air!