Let some in beer place their delight, O'er bottled porter waste the night, Or sip the rosy wine: A dish of Tea more pleases me,
Yields softer joys, provokes less noise, And breeds no base design. From China's groves, this present brought, Enlivens every power of thought,
Riggs many a ship for sea: Old maids it warms, young widows charms; And ladies’ men, not one in ten But courts them for their Tea.
When throbbing pains assail my head, And dullness o'er my brain is spread, ( The muse no longer kind ) A single sip dispels the hyp:
To chace the gloom, fresh spirits come, The flood-tide of the mind. When worn with toil, or vext with care, Let Susan but this draught prepare,
And I forget my pain. This magic bowl revives the soul; With gentlest sway, bids care be gay; Nor mounts, to cloud the brain.
If learned men the truth would speak They prize it far beyond their Greek, More fond attention pay; No Hebrew root so well can suit;
More quickly taught, less dearly bought, Yet studied twice a day. This leaf, from distant regions sprung, Puts life into the female tongue,
And aids the cause of love. Such power has Tea o'er bond and free; Which priests admire, delights the‘ squire, And Galen's sons approve.
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