A
PIPE
of
TOBACCO
In
Imitation
of
Six
Several
AUTHORS
.
IMITATION
I.
A
NEW-YEAR'S
ODE
.
RECITATIVO
.
OLD
battle-array
,
big
with
horror
is
fled
,
And
olive-rob'd
peace
again
lifts
up
her
head
.
Sing
,
ye
Muses
,
TOBACCO
,
the
blessing
of
peace
;
Was
ever
a
nation
so
blessed
as
this
?
AIR
.
When
summer
suns
grow
red
with
heat
,
TOBACCO
tempers
Phoebus'
ire
,
When
wintry
storms
around
us
beat
,
TOBACCO
cheers
with
gentle
fire
.
Yellow
autumn
,
youthful
spring
,
In
thy
praises
jointly
sing
.
RECITATIVO
.
Like
NEPTUNE
,
CAESAR
guards
VIRGINIAN
fleets
,
Fraught
with
TOBACCO'S
balmy
sweets
;
Old
Ocean
trembles
at
BRITANNIA'S
pow'r
,
And
BOREAS
is
afraid
to
roar
.
AIR
.
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
vine
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
.
AIR
.
Smiling
years
that
gayly
run
Round
the
zodiack
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
.
CHORUS
.
Smiling
years
,
that
gayly
run
Round
the
zodiack
with
the
sun
,
Tell
,
if
ever
you
have
seen
Realms
so
quiet
and
serene
.
IMITATION
II
.
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
fragment
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
.
O
Thou
,
matur'd
by
glad
Hesperian
suns
,
TOBACCO
,
fountain
pure
of
limpid
truth
,
That
looks
the
very
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
plastick
virtue
form'd
,
And
glaz'd
magnifick
o'er
,
I
grasp
,
I
fill
.
From
PAETOTHEKE
with
pungent
pow'rs
perfum'd
Itself
one
tortoise
,
all
,
where
shines
imbib'd
Each
parent
ray
;
then
rudely
ram'd
illume
,
With
the
red
touch
of
zeal-enkindling
sheet
,
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
,
Stream
life
and
joy
into
the
Muse's
bowl
.
Oh
be
thou
still
my
great
inspirer
,
thou
My
Muse
;
oh
fan
me
with
thy
zephyrs
boon
,
While
I
,
in
clouded
tabernacle
shrin'd
,
Burst
forth
all
oracle
and
mystick
song
.
IMITATION
IV
.
CRITICKS
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
.
POLLIO
,
with
flame
like
thine
,
my
verse
inspire
,
So
shall
the
Muse
from
smoke
elicit
fire
.
Coxcombs
prefer
the
tickling
sting
of
snuff
;
Yet
all
their
claim
to
wisdom
is
—
a
puff
:
Lord
FOPLIN
smokes
not
—
for
his
teeth
afraid
:
Sir
TAWDRY
smokes
not
—
for
he
wears
brocade
.
Ladies
,
when
pipes
are
brought
,
affect
to
swoon
;
They
love
no
smoke
,
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
shew
their
ignorance
;
can
he
Who
scorns
the
leaf
of
knowledge
,
love
the
tree
?
The
tainted
templar
(
more
prodigious
yet
)
Rails
at
TOBACCO
,
tho'
it
makes
him
—
spit
.
CRITONIA
vows
it
has
an
odious
stink
;
She
will
not
smoke
(
ye
gods
!
)
—
but
she
will
drink
:
And
chaste
PRUDELIA
(
blame
her
if
you
can
)
Says
,
pipes
are
us'd
by
that
vile
creature
Man
:
Yet
crowds
remain
,
who
still
its
worth
proclaim
,
While
some
for
pleasure
smoke
,
and
some
for
fame
:
Fame
,
of
our
actions
universal
spring
,
For
which
we
drink
,
eat
,
sleep
,
smoke
—
ev'ry
thing
.
IMITATION
V.
BLEST
leaf
!
whose
aromatick
gales
dispense
To
templars
modesty
,
to
parsons
sense
:
So
raptur'd
priests
,
at
fam'd
DODONA'S
shrine
Drank
inspiration
from
the
steam
divine
.
Poison
that
cures
,
a
vapour
that
affords
Content
,
more
solid
than
the
smile
of
lords
:
Rest
to
the
weary
,
to
the
hungry
food
,
The
last
kind
refuge
of
the
WISE
and
GOOD
.
Inspir'd
by
thee
,
dull
cits
adjust
the
scale
Of
Europe's
peace
,
when
other
statesmen
fail
.
By
thee
protected
,
and
thy
sister
,
beer
,
Poets
rejoice
,
nor
think
the
bailiff
near
.
Nor
less
the
critick
owns
thy
genial
aid
,
While
supperless
he
plies
the
piddling
trade
.
What
tho'
to
love
and
soft
delights
a
foe
,
By
ladies
hated
,
hated
by
the
beau
,
Yet
social
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
taste
thee
unexcis'd
by
kings
.
IMITATION
VI
.
BOY
!
bring
an
ounce
of
FREEMAN'S
best
,
And
bid
the
vicar
be
my
guest
:
Let
all
be
plac'd
in
manner
due
,
A
pot
wherein
to
spit
or
spue
,
And
London
Journal
,
or
Free-Briton
,
Of
use
to
light
a
pipe
,
or
**
*********
*********
This
village
,
unmolested
yet
By
troopers
shall
be
my
retreat
:
Who
cannot
flatter
,
bribe
,
betray
;
Who
cannot
write
or
vote
for
*
.
Far
from
the
vermin
of
the
town
,
Here
let
me
rather
live
,
my
own
,
Doze
o'er
a
pipe
,
whose
vapour
bland
In
sweet
oblivion
lulls
the
land
;
Of
all
which
at
Vienna
passes
,
As
ignorant
**
Brass
is
:
And
scorning
rascals
to
caress
,
Extol
the
days
of
good
Queen
BESS
,
When
first
TOBACCO
blest
our
isle
,
Then
think
of
other
Queens
—
and
smile
.
Come
jovial
pipe
,
and
bring
along
Midnight
revelry
and
song
;
The
merry
catch
,
the
madrigal
,
That
echoes
sweet
in
City
Hall
;
The
parson's
pun
,
the
smutty
tale
Of
country
justice
o'er
his
ale
.
I
ask
not
what
the
French
are
doing
,
Or
Spain
to
compass
Britain's
ruin
:
Britons
,
if
undone
,
can
go
,
Where
TOBACCO
loves
to
grow
.