Certain fumeur courtisait une veuve, Grâce à l’hymen, lorsqu’il fut dans ses lacs, Pour te donner, lui dit-il, une preuve De mon amour, je vais mettre en éclats Si tu le veux, ma pipe toute neuve; ――Non, non; la pipe a pour toi trop d’appas; Je ne la crains que lorsque je suis grosse: L’odeur m’en plait quand je ne la suis pas; Tu peux fumer. Notre époux, dans la Beauce Comme héritier d’un oncle, avait des droits; Il part. Suivant des conseils maladroits, Dans un procès chicaneau vous l’enfourne; Ce n’est qu’après absence de vingt mois, Qu’à son logis un matin il retourne, _Pipe_ à la bouche. Oh! qu’est ce que je vois? S’écria-t-il en rentrant; quoi! commode, Console içi! pendule, glace la? D’ou viennent done ces meubles à la mode? ――D’un troc. Je vais te conter tout cela; Mais――mon mari――ta pipe m’incommode. PONS DE VERDUN. ―――― AN ENCOMIUM ON TOBACCO. Thrice happy Isles that stole the world’s delight And thus produce so rich a Margarite! It is the fountain whence all pleasure springs, A potion for imperial and mighty kings. He that is master of so rich a store May laugh at Crœsus and esteem him poor; And with his smoky sceptre in his fist, Securely flout the toiling Alchymist, Who daily labours with a vain expense In distillations of the Quintessence, Not knowing that this golden Herb alone Is the Philosopher’s admired Stone. It s a favour which the Gods doth please, If they do feed on smoke, as Lucian says. Therefore the cause that the bright sun doth rest At the low point of the declining West―― When his oft wearied horses breathless pant―― Is to refresh himself with this sweet Plant, Which wanton Thetis from the West doth bring, To joy her love after his toilsome ring: For ’tis a cordial for an inward smart, As is Dictamnum[27] to the wounded hart. It is the sponge that wipes out all our woe; ’Tis like the thorn that doth on Pelion grow, With which whoe’er his frost limbs anoints, Shall feel no cold in fat, or flesh, or joints. ’Tis like the river, which whoe’er doth taste, Forgets his present griefs and sorrows past, Music, which makes grim thoughts retire, And for a while cease their tormenting fire Music, which forces beasts to stand at gaze, And fills their senseless spirits with amaze―― Compared to this is like delicious strings, Which sound but harshly while Apollo sings.