A Pipe of Tobacco/I

by Isaac Hawkins Browne (1705-1760)

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 chears 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 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.