Rosemary and Pansies/Lines Written after Reading Pepys's Diary
Delightful, quaint old diarist,
Most ruthless self-anatomist!
He guessed not how those pages
Wherein he bared his inmost soul,
So egotistic, naïve, and droll,
Would render up so rich a toll
Of spoil to after ages.
Most ruthless self-anatomist!
He guessed not how those pages
Wherein he bared his inmost soul,
So egotistic, naïve, and droll,
Would render up so rich a toll
Of spoil to after ages.
Unto his artless pen we owe
What ne'er another one doth show,
(Save as by farthing candle,)
A living picture of the ways,
(Vivid as 'neath electric rays,)
Of life in Charles the Second's days,
That time of riant scandal.
What ne'er another one doth show,
(Save as by farthing candle,)
A living picture of the ways,
(Vivid as 'neath electric rays,)
Of life in Charles the Second's days,
That time of riant scandal.
Clearly his world before us looms,
Though covered with the heavy glooms
Two centuries cast o'er it:
We see him at his work and play,
Dancing and singing, grave and gay,
Kissing his maids—a fie-fie trait!
We must, of course, deplore it.
Though covered with the heavy glooms
Two centuries cast o'er it:
We see him at his work and play,
Dancing and singing, grave and gay,
Kissing his maids—a fie-fie trait!
We must, of course, deplore it.
Kings, courtiers, "statesmen"—save the name!
Bold Duchesses, more void of shame
Than playhouse Moll or Nelly;
Intriguing placemen—all the crew
Of ladies frail, false lords, we view,
Gazing Pepys's magic-lantern through
From dust and ashes sally!
Bold Duchesses, more void of shame
Than playhouse Moll or Nelly;
Intriguing placemen—all the crew
Of ladies frail, false lords, we view,
Gazing Pepys's magic-lantern through
From dust and ashes sally!
Our diarist was not a saint,
He did not 'scape the age's taint,
In him was naught heroic:
A bribe he scrupled not to touch,
He loved fair women far too much,
His gormandising too was such
As would have shocked a stoic.
He did not 'scape the age's taint,
In him was naught heroic:
A bribe he scrupled not to touch,
He loved fair women far too much,
His gormandising too was such
As would have shocked a stoic.
We know him as none else we know—
Far better even than Rousseau,
Spite of his strange revealings;
Not Byron's self we know so well,
From what he did and did not tell,
(His soul a mingled heaven and hell!)
Confessions and concealings.
Far better even than Rousseau,
Spite of his strange revealings;
Not Byron's self we know so well,
From what he did and did not tell,
(His soul a mingled heaven and hell!)
Confessions and concealings.
Few have, like Pepys, the pluck to own
E'en to their very selves alone
Their little peccadilloes;
Though quick our neighbours' faults to find,
We're to our own worse failings blind,
Nor to confess them are inclined
E'en to our friendly pillows.
E'en to their very selves alone
Their little peccadilloes;
Though quick our neighbours' faults to find,
We're to our own worse failings blind,
Nor to confess them are inclined
E'en to our friendly pillows.
We know he'd sins both great and small
To answer for, but, after all,
Pray tell me who's without them?
The man was human through and through,
His faults belong to me and you,
'Tis well if we've his good points too,
And make no fuss about them.
To answer for, but, after all,
Pray tell me who's without them?
The man was human through and through,
His faults belong to me and you,
'Tis well if we've his good points too,
And make no fuss about them.
Could we to life but call him back
He would not a warm welcome lack
If with us he'd foregather:
How should we hang upon his chat,
His anecdotes and stories pat
Of rakish Earls and Ladies that
Had slipped from virtue's tether!
He would not a warm welcome lack
If with us he'd foregather:
How should we hang upon his chat,
His anecdotes and stories pat
Of rakish Earls and Ladies that
Had slipped from virtue's tether!
Yet were he here in person, he
Could scarcely help us more to see
His age's form and pressure
Than in his diary unique
(You'll vainly such another seek!),
He shows it with unvarnished cheek,
Than Lely's colours fresher!
Could scarcely help us more to see
His age's form and pressure
Than in his diary unique
(You'll vainly such another seek!),
He shows it with unvarnished cheek,
Than Lely's colours fresher!
A sad and shameful time we own
Was his: yet could the truth be known
Is our age much more moral?
A nineteenth-century Pepys may be
Is now at work to prove that we
Have very little warranty
With Charles's time to quarrel!
Was his: yet could the truth be known
Is our age much more moral?
A nineteenth-century Pepys may be
Is now at work to prove that we
Have very little warranty
With Charles's time to quarrel!
1893