Salmagundi; or, The whim-whams and opinions of Launcelot Langstaff, esq. [pseud.] and others. By William Irving, James Kirke Paulding and Washington Irving. Printed from the original ed., with a preface and notes by Evert A. Duyckinck.

ORGIES OF TEA. 389
Oh think, as ye waft the sad weed from your strand,
Of the plagues and vexations ye deal to our land.
As the Upas' dread breath, o'er the plain where it flies,
Empoisons and blasts each green blade that may rise,
So, wherever the leaves of your shrubs find their way,
The social affections soon suffer decay:
Like to Java's drear waste they embarren the heart,
Till the blossoms of love and of friendship depart.
Ah, ladies, and was it by heaven design'd,
That ye should be merciful, loving and kind?
Did it form you like angels, and send you below
To prophesy peace-to bid charity flow?
And have ye thus left your primeval estate,
And wandered so widely-so strangely of late?
Alas I the sad cause I too plainly can seeThese evils have all come upon you through tea I
Cursed weed, that can make our faint spirits resign
The character mild of their mission divine;
That can blot from their bosoms that tenderness true,
Which from female to female forever is due I
Oh, how nice is the texture —how fragile the frame
Of that delicate blossom, a female's fair fame I'Tis the sensitive plant, it recoils from the breath
And shrinks from the touch as if pregnant with death.
How often, how often, has innocence sigh'd;
Has beauty been reft of its honor-its pride;
Has virtue, though pure as an angel of light,
Been painted as dark as a demon of night:
All offer'd up victims, an auto de fe,
At the gloomy cabals-the dark orgies of tea I
If I, in the remnant that's left me of life,