Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 5.djvu/655

CANTO II. XIX.

But here the herald of the self-same mouth

Came breathing o'er the aromatic south,

Not like a "bed of violets" on the gale,

But such as wafts its cloud o'er grog or ale,

Borne from a short frail pipe, which yet had blown

Its gentle odours over either zone,

And, puffed where'er winds rise or waters roll,

Had wafted smoke from Portsmouth to the Pole,

Opposed its vapour as the lightning flashed,

And reeked, 'midst mountain-billows, unabashed,

To Æolus a constant sacrifice,

Through every change of all the varying skies.

And what was he who bore it?—I may err,

But deem him sailor or philosopher.

Sublime Tobacco! which from East to West

Cheers the tar's labour or the Turkman's rest;

Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides

His hours, and rivals opium and his brides;

Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand,

Though not less loved, in Wapping or the Strand;

Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe,

When tipped with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;

Like other charmers, wooing the caress,

More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;

Yet thy true lovers more admire by far

Thy naked beauties—Give me a cigar!