Nor of crimson combat think,

But fecurely fmoke and drink.

CHORU S.

Smiling years, that gayly run
Round the zodiac, with the fun,
Tell, if ever you have seen
Realms fo quiet and ferene,

IMITATION

IMITATION II.

L

ITTLE tube, of mighty power,

Charmer of an idle hour,

Object of my warm defire,
Lip of wax, and eye of fire:
And thy fnowy, taper waist,
With my finger gently brac'd;
And thy pretty swelling creft,
With my little stopper preft,
And the sweetest blifs of bliffes
Breathing from thy balmy kiffes.
Happy thrice and thrice agen,
Happiest he of happy men,

Who, when again the night returns,
When again the taper burns;
When again the cricket's gay,
(Little cricket, full of play)

Can afford his tube to feed
With the fragrant Indian weed:
Pleasure for a nofe divine,

Incense of the god of wine.
Happy thrice and thrice agen,

Happieft he of happy men.

IMITATION

IMITATION III.

THOU, matur'd by glad Hefperian funs,
Tobacco! fountain pure of limpid truth,
That looks the very foul; whence pouring thought
Swarms all the mind; abforpt is yellow care;
And at each puff imagination burns.

Flash on thy bard, and, with exalting fires,
Touch the mysterious lip that chaunts thy praife,
In ftrains to mortal fons of earth unknown.
Behold an engine, wrought from tauny mines
Of ductile clay, with plastic virtue form'd,
And glaz'd magnific o'er, I grafp, I fill.
From Pætotheke with pungent pow'rs perfum'd,
Itself one tortoife all, where fhines imbib'd
Each parent ray; then rudely ram'd illume,
With the red touch of zeal-enkindling sheet,
Mark'd with Gibsonian lore; forth iffue 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 ftrife and orthodoxal ale,

Stream life and joy into the Muses' bowl.
O be thou ftill my great infpirer, thou

My Mufe; oh fan me with thy zephyrs boon,
While I, in clouded tabernacle fhrin'd,

Burst forth all oracle and mystic fong.

VOL. I.

N

IMITATION

IMITATION IV.

CRI

theme

;

RITICS avaunt; Tobacco is my Tremble like hornets at the blasting steam. And you, court-infects, flutter not too near Its light, nor buzz within the fcorching sphere. Pollio, with flame like thine my verse inspire, So fhall the Muse from smoke elicit fire. Coxcombs prefer the tickling fting of snuff; Yet all their claim to wisdom is—a puff: Lord Foplin fmokes not-for his teeth afraid : Sir Tawdry smokes not-for he wears brocade. Ladies, when pipes are brought, affect to fwoon; They love no fmoke, except the smoke of town: But courtiers hate the puffing tribe—no matter, Strange, if they love the breath that cannot flatter! Its foes but fhew their ignorance; can he Who fcorns the leaf of knowledge, love the tree? The tainted Templar (more prodigious yet) Rails at Tobacco, tho' it makes him-spit. Citronia vows it has an odious ftink;

She will not fmoke (ye gods !)—but she will drink.
And chaite Prudella (blame her if you can)
Says, Pipes are us'd by that vile creature Man :
Yet crowds remain, who ftill its worth proclaim,
While fome for pleasure smoke, and some for fame :
Fame, of our actions univerfal fpring,

For which we drink, eat, sleep, smoke,-ev'ry thing.

I

IMITATION

IMITATION

BLEST

V.

LEST leaf! whofe aromatic gales dispense
To Templars modefty, to Parsons fenfe:
So raptur'd priefts, at fam'd Dodona's fhrine,
Drank inspiration from the steam divine.
Poison that cures, a vapour that affords
Content more folid than the fmile of lords:
Reft to the weary, to the hungry food,
The last kind refuge of the wife and good:
Infpir'd by thee, dull cits adjust the scale
Of Europe's peace, when other ftate fmen fail.
By thee protected, and thy fifter, Beer,
Poets rejoice, nor think the bailiff near.
Nor less the critic owns thy genial aid,
While fupperless he plies the piddling trade.
What tho' to love and foft delights a foe,
By ladies hated, hated by the beau,
Yet focial freedom, long to courts unknown,
Fair health, fair truth, and virtue are thy own.
Come to thy poet, come with healing wings,
And let me tafte thee unexcis'd by kings.

IMITATION