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Wrapt in one blaze; the pure, yet funeral pile,
XVIII. Neuha arose, and Torquil; twilight's hour Came sad and softly to their rocky bower, Which, kindling by degrees its dewy spars, Echoed their dim light to the mustering stars. Slowly the pair, partaking Nature's calm, Sought out their cottage, built beneath the palm; Now smiling and now silent, as the scene; Lovely as Love-the spirit! when serene. The Ocean scarce spoke louder with bis swell, Than breathes his mimic murmurer in the shell*
* If the reader will apply to his ear the sea-shell on his chimney-piece, he will be aware of what is alluded to. If the text should appear obscure, he will find in “Gebir” the same idea better expressed in two lines--The poem I never read, but have heard the lines quoted by a more recondite reader--who seems to be of a different opinion from the Editor of the Quarterly Review, who qualified it, in his answer to the Critical Review
As, far divided from his parent deep,
XX. But here the berald of the self-same mouth Came breathing o'er the aromatic south, er of his Juvenal, as trash of the worst and most insane description. It is to Mr. Landor, the author of Gebir, so qualified, and of some Latin poems, which vie with Martial or Catullus in obscenity, that the immaculate Mr. Southey addresses his declamation against impurity!
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 bad blows Its gentle odours over either zone, Add puffed where'er winds rise or waters roll, And wafted smoke from Portsmouth to the Pole, Opposed its vapour as the lightning flashed, And reeked, midst mountain-billows unabash’d, To Æolus a constant sacrifice, Through every change of all the varying skies. And what was be 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 tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe; Like other charmers, wooing the caress More dazzling when daring in full dress; Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties-Give me a cigar!
Hobbes, the father of Locke's and other philosophy, was an inveterate smoker,-even to pipes beyond computation.
And the rough Saturnalia of the Tar
This rough but jovial ceremony, used in crossing the Line, has been so often and so well described, that it need not be more than alluded to.
Completed his accoutrements, as Night
XXII. “What cheer, Ben Bunting?” cried (when in full view Our new acquaintance) Torquil, “ dught of new?" “Ey, ey,” quoth Ben, “not new, but news enow; A strange sail in the offing. "_" Sail! and how? What! could you make ber out? It cannot be; I've seen no rag of canvass on the sea." “ Belike,” said Ben,“ you might not from the bay, But from the bluff-bead, where I watched to-day, I saw her in the doldrums; for the wind Was light and baffling."-"When the sun declin'd Where lay she? bad she anchored?”—No, but still She bore down on us, till the wind grew still.” “ Her flag?”—“ I had no glass; but fore and aft, Egad, she seemed a wicked looking craft." 6 Armed?" ?" I expect so:-sent on the look-out;'Tis time, belike, to put our belm about." " About?- Whate'er may have us now in chace, We'll make no running fight, for that were base; We will die at our quarters, like true men.” “Ey, ey; for that, 'tis all the same to Ben." “ Does Christian know this?"_" Aye; he has piped all To quarters. They are furbishing the stands [hands Of arms; and we have got some guns to bear, And scaled them. You are wanted."-" That's but fair; And if it were not, mine is not the soul To leave my comrades helpless on the shoal. My Neuha! ah! and must my fate pursue Not me alone, but one so sweet and true? But whatsoe'er betide, ah, Neuha! now Upman me pot; the hour will not allow