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Like Neptune, Cæsar guards Virginian fleets,

Fraught with Tobacco's balmy sweets ; Old Ocean trembles at Britannia's power,

And Boreas is afraid to roar.


Happy mortal! he who knows
Pleasure which a Pipe bestows:
Curling eddies climb the room,
Wafting round a mild perfume.

RECITATIVO. Let foreign climes the wine and orange boast, While wastes of war deform the teeming coast; Britannia, distant from each hostile sound, Enjoys a Pipe, with ease and freedom crown'd; E'en restless faction finds itself most free, Or if a slave, a slave to liberty.

Smiling years that gaily run
Round the zodiac with the sun,

Tell, if ever you have seen
Realms so quiet and serene.
British sons no longer now
Hurl the bar, or twang the bow,
Nor of crimson combat think,
But securely smoke and drink.

Smiling years, that gaily run
Round the zodiac with the sun,
Tell, if ever you have seen
Realms so quiet and screne.


Tenues fugit ceu fumus in auras.


LITTLE tube of mighty pow'r,
Charmer of an idle hour,
Object of my warm desire,
Lip of wax, and eye of fire:

And thy snowy taper waist,
With my finger gently brac'd;
And thy pretty swelling crest,
With my little stopper prest;
And the sweetest bliss of blisses,
Breathing from thy balmy kisses.
Happy thrice, and thrice agen,
Happiest he of happy men,
Who when agen the night returns,
When agen the taper burns,
When agen the cricket's gay,
(Little cricket, full of play)
Can afford his tube to feed
With the fragrant Indian weed :
Pleasure for a nose divine,
Incense of the god of wine.
Happy thrice, and thrice agen,
Happiest he of happy men.

IMITATION III.-James Thomson.

Prorumpit ad æthera nubem
Turbine, fumantem piceo.


O THOU, matur'd by glad Hesperian suns,
Tobacco, fountain pure of " limpid truth,
That looks the rery soul; whence pouring thought
Swarms all the mind; absorpt is yellow care,
? And at each puff imagination burns :
Flash on thy bard, and with exalting fires
Touch the mysterious lip, that chaunts thy praise
In strains to mortal sons of earth unknown.
Behold an engine, wrought from tawny mines
Of ductile clay with 3 plastic virtue form’d,
And glaz'd magnific o'er, I grasp, I fill.
From Pætotheke + with pungent pow'rs perfum'd,
s Itself one tortoise all, where shines imbib'd
Each parent ray; then rudely ramm'd illume,
With the red touch of seal-enkindling sheet,

* Poem on Liberty, ver. 12.

2 Ibid. ver. 16. 3 Ibid. ver. 104. 4 A poetical word for a tobacco-box. 5 Poem on Liberty, ver. 243, 245.

Mark'd with Gibsonian lore; forth issue clouds,
Thought-thrilling, thirst-inciting clouds around,
And many-mining fires; I all the while,
Lolling at ease, ? inhale the breezy balm.
But chief, when Bacchus wont with thee to join,
In genial strife and orthodoxal ale,
* Steam life and joy into the Muse's bowl.
Oh, be thou still my great inspirer, thou
My Muse! Oh fan me with thy zephyr's boon,
While I, in clouded tabernacle shrin’d,
Burst forth all oracle and mystic song !



am Bullatis mihi nugis Pagina turgescatdare pondus idonea fumo. PERS. Critics, avaunt! Tobacco is my theme; Tremble like hornets at the blasting steam! And you, court-insects, flutter not too near Its light, nor buzz within the scorching sphere.

6 Poem on Liberty, ver. 247, alluding to the Pastoral Letters of Bishop Gibson. 7 Ibid.ver.309. 8 Ibid.ver.171.

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