In this world, therefore, so intimately familiar to any reader of the great diarist, Lord Buckhurst moves noisily with Rochester and Buckingham, Etherege and Sedley, “the first gentleman,” says Horace Walpole, “of the voluptuous court of Charles II.” We are told that he refused the King’s offers of employment in order to enjoy his pleasures with the greater freedom, or, as he himself wrote with much frankness:
_May knaves and fools grow rich and great, And the world think them wise, While I lie dying at her feet And all the world despise._
_Let conquering Kings new triumphs raise, And melt in court delights: Her eyes can give much brighter days, Her arms much softer nights._
This did not prevent him from enrolling as a volunteer in the Dutch war of 1665, when he was present at a naval battle, and when the song which he was reported to have written on the eve of the engagement was brought to London and bandied from mouth to mouth about the town. Dr. Johnson shows himself sceptical as to this picturesque legend of the origin of the verses. “Seldom is any splendid story wholly true,” he observes; and continues, “I have heard from the Earl of Orrery, that Lord Buckhurst had been a week employed upon it, and only re-touched, or finished it, on the memorable evening.” However this may be, both song and story remain: I have told the story, and quote the song:
_To all you ladies now at land We men at sea indite; But first would have you understand How hard it is to write: The Muses now, and Neptune too, We must implore to write to you, With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_For though the Muses should prove kind And fill our empty brain, Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind To wave the azure main, Our paper, pen and ink, and we, Roll up and down our ships at sea, With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_Then if we write not by each post, Think not we are unkind; Nor yet conclude our ships are lost By Dutchman or the wind: Our tears we’ll send a speedier way, The tide shall bring them twice a day, With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_The King with wonder and surprise Will swear the seas grow bold, Because the tides will higher rise Than e’er they did of old: But let him know it is our tears Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs,[9] With a fa, la, la, la, la._