We never know how high we are , Till we are asked to rise , And then if we are true to plan , Our statures touch the skies— The Heroism we recite , Would be a normal thing , Did not ourselves the Cubits warp , For fear to be a King—
"Ade due damballa. Give me the power, I beg of you. Leveau mercier du bois chaloitte. Secoise entienne mais pois de morte. Morteisma lieu de vocuier de mieu vochette. Endenlieu pour du boisette damballa! Endenlieu pour du boisette damballa!..."