ld 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 Phœbus' Ire, When Wintry Storms around us beat, Tobacco chears 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 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 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 gayly run Round the Zodiac with the Sun, Tell if ever you have seen Realms so quiet and serene.
End block from 'A Pipe of Tobacco' by Isaac Hawkins Browne, published in 1736