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Such was the song which Zion's children sung,

When by Euphrates' stream they made their And to such sadly solemn notes are strung (plaint:

Angelic harps, to soothe a dying saint.

Methinks I hear the full celestial choir, (raise;

Thro' heaven's high dome their aweful anthem Now chanting clear, and now they all conspire

To swell the lofty hymn, from praise to praise.

Let me, ye wand’ring spirits of the wind,

Whoas wild Fancyprompts you touch the string, Smit with your theme, be in your chorus join'd;

For, 'till you cease, my Muse forgets to sing.

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IMITATION 1.—COLLEY CIBBER.

A NEW-YEAR's ODE.

Laudes egregii Cæsaris
Culpa deterere ingeni.

Hor.

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 Phæbus’ ire,
When wintry storms around us beat,
Tobacco cheers with gentle fire.

Yellow Autumn, youthful Spring,
In thy praises jointly sing.

RECITATIVO.

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.

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 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.

AIR.
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.

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

IMITATION II.-AMB. PHILIPS.

Tenues fugit ceu fumus in auras.

Virg.

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.

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