Spiegel van Amsterdams zomervreugd, op de dorpen Amstelveen, Slooten, en den Overtoom, vertónende deszel...

Whose son splashes the silver brook while playing,
Where the pleasure yacht lies ready to catch the breeze,
And draw breath upon the cool streams, in summer heat.
When Kuiken A surname, likely a local resident or official. relieves himself for a while of his care,
And escapes the bustle of the Stock Exchange and the City into solitude,
He sees the tree bud unfolded by the blossoms,
The fruit weaned, showered with dew and rain,
Swell through the glow of heaven's sunshine.
Country life, your delight must be indescribable!
You are a Tempe a legendary valley of beauty and peace in ancient Greece for all who come to behold you.
Now I stepped onward again, unless I were held back
And restricted in my haste: the Milestone halts my walk.
Old Rome used to pile stones in a heap,
To indicate the miles through those hills;
One often saw those mounds rise up to bright towers,
While everyone had to throw a stone there from the field,
Until Terminus the Roman god of boundaries was placed in their stead;
A deity who, of old, had to divide the lands:
But the curious eye here goes to play more satisfied
By the erected spire than by Terminus' torso,
Whose square lower body, entirely shapeless and clumsy,
Made a deity, stripped of hands and feet,
As a sign that he was never to be met in any place,
Other than where he was placed for the separation of the land.
But Phoebus the sun god sun-carriage turns to the West,
Therefore it becomes more than time to move further on,
If I wish to approach the city again by eventide.
O airy AMSTELVEEN! Now I step upon your ground,
I approach the Church, where the precious covenant
Is shown to your Congregation, according to heaven's will;
Pure truth is commended to everyone here,
Stripped of vanity or deep-seated delusion.
Come, nymph of song, let us now walk around the Churchyard,
Where the trees seem to show life,
But alas! It is death that we find dwelling here!
Each grave provides us a mirror, which clearly shows us
The fragility of life, and how we always hurry
Toward the grave, through the passing of our days:
It teaches us to carry no pride in strength or power,
But always to think of death, before her might
Surprises us unexpectedly, and when one least expects,
Causes the last breath of life to be given on the deathbed.
The Churchyard teaches us always to live in such a state,
As if death were already treading on our heels,
So that one learns to die before the night encompasses us
Of the dreary and lonely grave, in order to carry, with satisfaction,
An unblemished soul to heaven.
But what! What do I see there? The place of punishment of Justice,
Where wrongdoing receives its reward, and everything is laid out
According to the noble foundation of the established laws.
Virtue can calmly sit upon her throne,
Where Justice is maintained, and the villain is punished
By rope or steel, before he causes more harm,
And makes the Farmer or the Citizen lament pitiably.
Where Themis' the goddess of divine order and law sword rules, all malice must flee;
There the Land grows and blooms in wealth and abundance;
There reason is met with reverence,
There Religion remains, dwelling with chaste customs,
As our AMSTELVEEN can demonstrate with deeds.
Now walked around the South side along the field.
See how the lowing cattle swell their milk-rich udders,
Through food of grass and fresh clover leaves,
The Cows bellow, to see themselves unburdened again
Of their accumulated load, when Niesje steps into the land,
And milks her pails full, the foam stands on the edge,

So lush is the land in feeding the fertile cattle.
Here no strong guard is needed to protect the sheep
From the biting of the Wolf; oh no! That woolly cattle
Live here, by day and night, in quiet rest and peace.
And has no enemy, except the butcher knife, ever to fear,
When it is taken for man's benefit in life.
But what twittering forces its way through my ears?
How! The Stork calls to me, do you forget me alone?
Here I am, look up high; here I can live safely;
On the East side of the Church, a place is given to me,
Where year upon year I remake my previous nest,
Hatch my young, and watch over them with zeal.
Oh Bird! Who knows how to teach us gratitude,
Would I forget you, no, I shall honor you forever,
The love that you bear for your young holds fast,
(As Delft can testify in its furious fire)
And teaches man his duty to walk in your path,
And to bestow gratitude upon those who do him good.
But Chatterer, tell me, where do you turn your flight,
When you leave this abode for another air?
Is it to the Nile bank, or the Libyan deserts?
Or does the Southland appear to your eyes?
As the imagination of many a trackless head wills;
Or do you strive to the West, where the sun-fire is extinguished,
And loses its evening rays in the pool of Thetis a sea goddess, often representing the ocean?
But how! You let me wander in uncertainty
By your silence, farewell then, Stork!
Fly wherever you will. I turn my steps toward
A resting place, to strengthen heart with food and drink.
Here I am on the road, as far as I can notice,
That leads me from AMSTELVEEN to Amsterdam;
Here I rest under the foliage that spreads on high,
And see the Villagers in their industrious occupations:
Each tries, in competition, to bestow his diligence and strength
For the benefit of Wife, and Children, and further household;
The diligent labor exerts all its capability,
To pair, with a fine condition, the necessary,
And to preserve everything from decay or disaster,
So that the City dweller is led outside
By AMSTELVEEN'S delight, where nothing disturbs the rest,
While Peace and Concord gladly dwell in low huts:
How grandly does the TOWN HALL show itself to my sight,
Where Amstel's coat of arms proudly stands in hard stone,
It sticks its gable peak right through the trees,
And surpasses many cities in elegance,
To dim the luster of their own Town Hall.
Here the Farmer is given justice upon his claim;
Astraea the goddess of justice holds the scale, which must never tip
Through insight of lineage, of goods, or status:
When the law is upheld, it protects the subjects,
Where it is bent, it gives birth to countless horrors,
Suppresses the pious, preserves the vicious,
Driven by unholy self-interest and usury,
But the AMSTELVEEN Justice can give us testimony
Of unblemished faithfulness, which spares neither high nor low,
Punishes the wicked, and offers assistance to the pious,
Therefore this Village shall lift its head to Heaven with fame,
As long as the LEYDEN road shall stretch along its houses,
To behold Rynland's old city, the Netherlands' Athens,
As famous for the suffering, which it formerly

Through William's bravery, that savior of Orange;
His courage and the water caused the army of Spain
To depart from the city, and from the battlefield;
Then the Leyden-Maid was given the crown upon her head
Of Holland's High School, to shine forever
With this jewel, granted to her for her bravery.
Farewell, O AMSTELVEEN! The midday sun descends.
It will be time that I turn toward the Slooterweg,
To behold the country estate of the Lord of HOORN.
Here I see one of the neatest Land-buildings,
As spacious as it is airy, than I have encountered anywhere.
By what a lovely air do I find myself greeted here?
The Rose, the Hyacinth, the fresh Violets,
The Lily, Myrtle and Thyme, Orange and Laurels
Spread fairer scent than ever Melithea an ancient name associated with honey or flowers gives,
Though Flora there has her throne and fixed dwelling place
In an infinite Spring, to cultivate everything.
Oh Green Hedge! That encloses the lovely stretches
Of this garden, why do you forbid my eye
To see the beauty within? Or are you placed here
To cure the curious of their spying?
Thus no storm or cold should harm your branch or scions!
But Water-nymph, that borders this fresh garden,
And flows with your clear crystal around its grounds,
Stick your head through the thicket to tell me
What wonders, what ornaments shine in this perimeter.
No, no, stay in your pool; it will easily happen soon,
That we behold the entire garden through the noble coast,
To satisfy our singing-desire with its beauty.
Farewell, O Country estate, no disaster should harm you,
No frost, no cold, your blossom, flower, and fruit
Ever injure, but always bloom in a healthy air,
To stretch an eye-delight to the Lord OF HOORN,
When it pleases him to withdraw from the city-bustle.
Farewell! I walk further on, where STAALWYK forces my sight
To wonder again through its ornaments,
I can view the House and Flower-bed together through the Front gate,
Here the Flower-goddess shows her ultimate capability,
And weaves a rainbow of colors without number;
He wanders who presumes that he will count them;
No, count sooner the sand at sea, or the endless army of stars,
You are in both less likely to wander and confuse,
Than in the flower-tapestry that shows itself here;
This place is crowned by art, and by Nature,
To carry away the wreath of honor of all beauty and neatness,
The Statues, Topiary, and the flown-up Hedges,
Deserve each a prize of the most beautiful ornament,
The Pleasure-house, which occupies the corner of the garden on both sides,
Would charm even the playful eye of Kings,
The spacious Garden-building, so elegant in front,
With its wings draws my attention more and more:
Your neatness, STAALWYK! shows the foresight of your Lord,

Who adorns you everywhere, with everything that the capability
Of art, or nature can allow to our eye.
Bloom then, O STAALWYK! Bloom in prosperity, peace, and rest;
Give your Owner always a new desire,
To chase away city-care with your country air!
So shall the Slooterweg always carry glory upon you,
Like the sparkling star of all its garden-ornaments.
The approaching evening forces me to go further,
To turn along the TOWN HALL to the Overtoom.
Who must not honor the beautiful sight of this road,
Decorated with houses, and with trees, that lift their crown
Much higher than the sandy dune at sea?
The cheerful Breeze strives here in the green leaves,
To satisfy her lust with her Zephyrus,
To float through the pressure of the branches, to a joy
Of the wanderer, who rejoices in the shadow green.
By SLOOTERS TOWN HALL, which can tame the wrongdoing.
Farewell, O airy Village! Farewell, O high trees!
I must behold the Church, so elegantly planted
With straight trunks, that lift their crown on all sides
Far above the temple roof, all-swarming.
The neat Church-building makes me realize to the closest,
The neatness of God's word, that which is proclaimed here,
When the Heaven-interpreter pours a treasure of wisdom
On the head of his Congregation, to loose her from the sinful life,
And to give the way to eternal salvation.
Long bloom the Religion here in love, hope, and virtue!
Farewell, O Country air! I am forced to pause my joy,
Through the descending evening light, for this time.
How much your loveliness and beauty can delight me.
I must back to Amsterdam, my cradle and home base,
Farewell, O Villages! I have had my delight with you,
But not yet satisfied, I hope to behold you again,
When your Gardens, with their beautiful country buildings
Will be unfolded by the noble Drawing-art.
While Terpsichore the muse of dance and song firmly reaches half-longingly for that favor,
I shall walk myself by the Y and Amstel-stream,
Yet always think of your country loveliness.
Of your ornaments, of your Gardens, to see the beauty
Inside once, and to weave a laurel crown for each,
That will endure time and centuries.
For though the Destroyer tests his power on the hardest walls,
And ends by casting them down,
Yet his restlessness falls short of Poetry;
That heaven-fire is too hot for him to attack,
It dulls his scythe, and knots Envy's steel teeth,
It immortalizes land and people, along the outstretched Universe.
O Villages! I hope that this shall also happen to you,
When we praise your garden-ornaments on Phoebus the sun god strings,
And name every Landlord according to his claim and respect,
In that expectation I now lay down my pen,
While I return, well-satisfied, to Amsterdam.