قراءة كتاب Nicotiana; Or, The Smoker's and Snuff-Taker's Companion
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Nicotiana; Or, The Smoker's and Snuff-Taker's Companion
ear;
Of early fishing with the summer fly,
And many a pleasing tale to anglers dear.
The while they draw from the inspiring weed,
They boast a charm the smoker owns supreme;
And now diverted with the polish’d reed,
Forego the little fish-house by the stream.
Tho’ this be fancy, still it serves to shew,
That Wisdom’s sons have lov’d Columbia’s pride;
And shall, while waters round our island flow,
Tho’ fools and fops its healing breath deride.
Mem’ry still hold me in thy high esteem,
For lonely setting upon the day’s decline;
Visions sublime, before my fancy gleam,
And rich ideas from her stores combine.
The Social Pipe.
WALTON AND COTTON.[8]
| Our sires of old esteemed this healing leaf, Sacred to Bacchus and his rosy train; And many a country squire and martial chief, Have sung its virtues mid a long campaign. Methinks I see Charles Cotton and his friend, The modest Walton from Augusta’s town; Enter the fishing house an hour to spend, And by the marble[9] table set them down. Boy! bring me in the jug of Derby ale, My best tobacco and my smoking tray; The boy obedient brings the rich regale, And each assumes his pipe of polish’d clay. Thus sang young Cotton, and his will obey’d, And snug the friends were seated at their ease; They light their tubes without the least parade, And give the fragrance to the playful breeze. Now cloud on cloud parades the fisher’s room, The Moreland ale rich sparkles to the sight; They draw fresh wisdom from the circling gloom, And deal a converse pregnant with delight. The love-sick Switzer from his frozen lake, Lights thee to cheer him thro’ the upland way; To her who sighs impatient for his sake, And thinks a moment loiter’d, is a moon’s delay. The hardy Scot amidst his mountain snow, When icy fetters bind the dreary vale, Draws from his muse the never-failing glow, And bids defiance to the rushing gale. The honest Cambrians round their cyder cask, In friendship meet the moments to solace; Tell all thy worth as circles round the ask, And cheerly sing of “Shenkin’s noble race.” The hardy tar in foamy billows hid, While fiery flashes all around deform; Clings to the yard and takes his fav’rite quid, Smiles at the danger and defies the storm; And when the foe with daring force appears, Recurrent to the sav’ry pouch once more, New vigour takes and three for George he cheers, As vict’ry smiles, and still the cannons roar. The soldier loves thee on his dreary march, And when in battle dreadful armies join; ’Tis thou forbids his sulphur’d lips should parch, And gives new strength to charge along the line. Thy acrid flavour to new toil invites The ploughman, drooping ’neath the noon-day beam; Inspir’d by thee, he thinks of love’s delights, And down the furrow whistles to his team. Thus all admire thee: search around the globe, The rich, the poor, the volatile, the grave; Save the SWEET fop, who fears to taint his robe, The smock-fac’d fribble, and the henpeck’d slave. Thus all esteem thee, and to this agree, Thou art the drug preferr’d in ev’ry clime; To clear the head, and set the senses free, And lengthen life beyond the wonted time. The Social Pipe. |
ON A PIPE OF TOBACCO.
BY ISAAC HAWKINS BROWN, ESQ.
MY LAST CIGAR.
| The mighty Thebes, and Babylon the great, Imperial Rome, in turn, have bowed to fate; So this great world, and each ‘particular star’, Must all burn out, like you, my last cigar: A puff—a transient fire, that ends in smoke, And all that’s given to man—that bitter joke— Youth, Hope, and Love, three whiffs of passing zest, Then come the ashes, and the long, long, rest. |
