While musing o’er traditions of the past,
Or graced the lips of brave Sir Walter Raleigh
Ere sage King Jamie blew his Counterblast.
Did it, safe hidden in some secret cavern,
Escape that monarch’s pipoclastic ken?
Has Shakespeare smoked it at the Mermaid Tavern,
Quaffing a cup of sack with rare old Ben?
Ay, Shakespeare might have watched his vast creations
Loom through its smoke—the spectre-haunted Thane,
The Sisters at their ghastly invocations,