Sir John Beaumont

W. B., in Beaumont, Metamorphosis of Tobacco (1602) sig. A3-A3v.

See how the chatt'ring throngs of Poets vaine
Besiege the paths unto the Muses cell:
See how they pant, and beate with fruitlesse paine
The steepie traces to the learned well:
Securely thou their vaine assaults discount,
Thou, whom Apollo by the hand hath guided
A new-found passage to the horned mount,
And from the rout unhallowed hath devided,
And taught thee raise thy soring Muse on wing,
And thy triumphant name in learned eares to ring.
There didst thou gather on Parnassus clift
This pretious herbe, Tabacco most divine,
Then which nere Greece, nere Italy did lift
A flower more fragrant to the Muses shrine:
A purer sacrifice did nere adorne
Apolloes altars, then this Indian fire,
The pipe, thy head: the flame to make it burne,
The furie, which the Muses doe inspire:
O sacred smoke, that doth from hence arise,
The authors winged praise, which beates upon the skies.