Samuel Pepys

Like as the Oak whose roots descend     Through earth and stillness seeking food     Most apt to furnish in the end     That dense, indomitable wood     Which, felled, may arm a seaward flank     Of Ostias mole or, bent to frame     The beaked Liburnians triple bank,     Carry afar the Roman name;     But which, a tree, the season moves     Through gentler Gods than Wind or Tide,     Delightedly to harbour doves,     Or take some clasping vine for bride;     So this man, prescient to ensure     (Since even now his orders hold)     A little State might ride secure     At sea from foes her sloth made bold,,     Turned in his midmost harried round,     As Venus drove or Liber led,     And snatched from any shrine he found     The Stolen Draught, the Secret Bread.     Nor these alone. His life betrayed     No gust unslaked, no pleasure missed.     He called the obedient Nine to aid     The varied chase. And Clio kissed;     Bidding him write each sordid love,     Shame, panic, stratagem, and lie     In full, that sinners undiscov-     ered, like ourselves, might say:, Tis I!