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Thomas Moore - Translation From the Gull Language
Work rating: Low

`Twas grav`d on the Stone of Destiny,
In letters four, and letters three;
And ne`er did the King of the Gulls go by
But those awful letters scar`d his eye;
For he knew that a Prophet Voice had said
"As long as those words by man were read,
The ancient race of the Gulls should ne`er
One hour of peace or plenty share."
But years and years successive flew
And the letters still more legible grew, —
At top, a T, an H, an E,
And underneath, D. E. B. T.


Some thought them Hebrew, — such as Jews,
More skill`d in Scrip than Scripture use;
While some surmis`d `twas an ancient way
Of keeping accounts, (well known in the day
Of the fam`d Didlerius Jeremias,
Who had thereto a wonderful bias,)
And prov`d in books most learnedly boring,
`Twas called the Pontick way of scoring.
Howe`er this be, there never were yet
Seven letters of the alphabet,
That, `twixt them form`d so grim a spell,
Or scar`d a Land of Gulls so well,
As did this awful riddle-me-ree
Of T.H.E.D.E.B.T.


Hark! - it is struggling Freedom`s cry;
"Help, help, ye nations, or I die;
`Tis freedom`s fight, and on the field
Where I expire, your doom is seal`d."
The Gull-King hears the awakening call,
He hath summon`d his Peers and Patriots all,
And he asks, "Ye noble Gulls, shall we
Stand basely by at the fall of the Free,
Nor utter a curse, nor deal a blow?"
And they answer, with voice of thunder, "No."


Out fly their flashing swords in the air! -
But, — why do they rest suspended there?
What sudden blight, what baleful charm,
Hath chill`d each eye and check`d each arm?
Alas! some withering hand hath thrown
The veil from off that fatal stone,
And pointing now, with sapless finger,
Showeth where dark those letters linger, —
Letters four, and letters three,
T.H.E. D.E.B.T.


At sight thereof, each lifted brand
Powerless falls from every hand;
In vain the Patriot knits his brow, —
Even talk, his staple, fails him now.
In vain the King like a hero treads,
His Lords of the Treasury shake their heads;
And to all his talk of "brave and free",
No answer getteth His Majesty
But "T.H.E. D.E.B.T."


In short, the whole Gull nation feels
The`re fairly spell-bound, neck and heels;
And so, in the face of the laughing world,
Must e`en sit down, with banners furled,
Adjourning all their dreams sublime
Of glory and war to — some other time.
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