TOBACCO GLORIFIED. 115 
But all the Pontiff’s rant 
And Royal Jamie’s cant 
Ne’er made its use decrease. 
*¢ Teetotallers may stamp 
And roar at pipes and beer; 
But place them in a swamp, 
When nights are dark and damp— 
Their tune would change, I fear. 
“* No advocate am I 
Of excess in one or t’other, 
And ne’er essayed to try 
In wine to drown a sigh, 
Or a single care to smother. 
** Yet, in moderation pure, 
A glass is well enough; 
But, a troubled heart to cure, 
Kind feelings to insure, 
Give me a cheerful puff. 
*¢ How oft a learn’d divine 
His sermons will prepare, 
Not by imbibing wine, 
But, ’neath th’ influence fine 
Of a pipe of ‘‘ baccy” rare! 
“ How many a pleasing scene, 
How many a happy joke, 
How many a satire keen, 
Or problem sharp, has been 
Evolved or born of smoke! 
« How oft, amidst the jar 
Of storms on ruin bent, 
On ship-board, near or far, 
To the drenched and shiv’ring tar 
Tobacco’s solace lent! 
«¢ Oh! tell me not ’tis bad, 
Or that it shortens life. 
Its charms can soothe the sad, 
And make the wretched glad, 
In trouble and in strife. 
s¢ "Tis used in every clime, 
By all men, high and low; 
It is praised in prose and rhyme, 
So let the kind herb grow! 
