Hollands tempe verhérelykt, vertoond in dertig gezigten; beginnende van Amsterdam af langs de Haarlemmer...

A useful invention considered many centuries ago,
But never practiced with as much order as in this time.
But lovely lusthuis summer house, I must contemplate you more closely:
Your neat building puts many other estate buildings to shame,
For which the Triton, placed here before your entrance,
Blows your praise with water upon his conch shell,
Just as that Sea-god once, upon the bellowing of the whales,
Trumpeted the praise of the cheerful mating of Thetis.
Farewell, oh POSTRUST! Bloom to the joy of your Lord,
While I turn my attentive eye to the airy SOELEN.
How proudly the high-crowned trees mirror themselves
Here in the bright crystal that flows along their feet,
And through its pure moisture gives nourishment to the roots,
A sign that one constantly lives through the other,
To show a mortal an example,
How everything, Rich and Poor, must dwell with one another,
Since no one can exist upon himself alone:
What would a King be, who could not find one subject
For his service? Even had he a hundred crowns,
To whom would he show his state or majesty?
The common folk make him a Prince, so that with discretion
He might watch over the State, and his majesty
Receives nourishment from the common folk; the common folk live content again,
As long as he listens to the plumb line of reason.
But SOELEN, I wander too far from your charm,
Yet through the sweet scent that the flowers spread,
I am brought back from my reflections:
I see you surrounded everywhere with memories,
Yet the magnificent Front-gate grants a passage to the view,
Which obliges the grazing eye to gratitude,
Through the sight of flowers and trees laden with fruits;
Your prosperity shines everywhere in house- and garden-ornaments,
Built, pruned, and planted in the most neat manner.
It pleases me, resting at the neat water's edge,
To see the playful little fish living in the streams;
This resting place can give pleasure to the body and the eye;
The body finds rest here, the eye a beautiful stance
Of houses, trees, and of water and land;
Everyone here seems to want to wear the prize of beauty,
To show the Brothers NOORDBON their pleasure,
As they enjoy the fresh outdoor air here,
Where rest never flees from the feeling,
But lives free and safe at this SOELEN summer-spot.
The shadow of this estate never suffers disaster or sorrow,
Where honorable cheerfulness has planted its seat.
He who often leaves the Amstel-dweller likely referring to an inhabitant of Amsterdam at your estate,
When he keeps his day of rest; then one sees small and great
Approaching you full of joy with vessels or on foot;
This one comes to amuse himself with bowls in the green,
Here one plays skittles, and there, there one strikes with the ball,
Which, rolling, shows the reversal of fortune,
Although at that time it is not taken into account.
Oh SLOTERDYK! I see you overflowing with people,
Lured by your amusement and elegant standing;
You give us the most beautiful view by water and by land;
There one can contemplate the foaming IJ from your dike,
Here the eye hovers again along the fields and country districts,
Where the dairy-giving Cattle step into the grass to the udders,
Or the horned head mirrors itself in a pool of water,
Which once made the inhabitants of the Nile sigh with sorrow,
When they, though fruitlessly, wanted to flee from themselves.
But this leads me again away from SLOTERDYK'S amusement,
Also it will be time that I proceed, for I crave,

With the curious eye, for new elegances.
Hold firm, my Singing-nymph! for here we see WEL TE VREDEN,

Is it truth? Does that name correspond to the essence?
Oh Peace! Have you stepped here onto your throne?
Do Concord, love and rest, joy and pleasure live,
As throne-companions, who join themselves to Peace,
On this country estate in the shady green?
No, WEL TE VREDEN, no, although every year-season
Gives even more luster to your garden-ornaments,
You lack the lovely Peace in your walkways;
That heavenly Goddess has long since fled the earth;
The greed for money, which constantly sighs for more,
Forced Peace and Love to depart from the earth:
Where does the sigh for money not know how to rouse discord,
And where Discord is, there is neither Peace nor rest.
But, dear Country-estate, that you for joy and pleasure
Can please Mr. TEMMINK through all your elegance,
Makes you bear that great name of WEL TE VREDEN;
He is pleased with you, which your Name shows;
The nightingale, that lives in your trees,
With all the feathered-creatures, is happy and WELL CONTENT,
And offers its song to your charms.
How proudly your Summer-house shows itself here to the view,
At the end of the garden, founded for country-amusement,
Where one is secured against wind, or storm, or rain,
And the eye keeps the freedom for a view in all ways;
I do not speak of the estate-building, time runs too short for me,
I go WELL CONTENT where my zeal spurs me,
Long must you keep your ornament and your standing!
I must contemplate the pleasure-spot of Mr. VANDER DOES,
Which from the swift animal, the UNICORN original: "EENHOREN", its Name
Apparently has borrowed, to give with reason to fame,
To spread her glory and renown.
How lushly the eye goes grazing on every side here
Through the lovely summer-green, and fragrant flower-carpet;
The keen Neatness, which delights itself in the beautiful,
Finds here her pleasure and joy in trees and in hedges,
To simultaneously bear her fame upon the Estate-building,
Which defies a thousand others in beauty and standing;
It is all magnificent, wherever the eye turns:
The proud Front-gate boasts with coats of arms, garden-ornaments,
And Vases, to satiate the sight in everything,
The UNICORN lies quietly, as guardian of this estate,
In the middle of the gate. Where did I ever find subject-matter,
So beautiful, so lovely to sing about magnificently,
Than this estate gives me in its reflections?
As I contemplate it in my walk here along the way.
Oh Pleasure-spot! I value you for a royal building,
Yes higher, since rest is to be found with your beauty.
No Crown-gold finds itself bound to care,
No densely planted lane, no orchard full of fruit,
No colorful flower-bed, nor yet any sweet air,
Nor rustling fountain can please the eye,
Where the heart inwardly feels itself gnawed by state-ambition:
Where does a King find rest? Where can he be safe?
Here he fears in his court the deadly court-venom,
There country-amusement threatens him with a traitor's sword;
He does not know if he comes to take counsel with his friends,
Or with his enemies, since a disguised countenance
So often, through a guise of friendship, hides a bitter hate.
But here it is safe for Mr. VANDER DOES to rest,
Here he can amuse himself to his wish without care,

When the loneliness of country-amusement pleases him,
Not tormented by unrest, nor plagued by care,
He finds his joy in the lovely country-life.
Now my attention is driven again to GEUZEVELD,
Which goes above the trees with its pointed crown.
I shall, oh GEUZEVELD! your house- and garden-ornament
Not attempt to paint in my song to the life,
Because someone else has described you at length;
Oh No! I only wish that your luster constantly grows,
And blooms in brilliance and glory with the Name of KLOK a surname, literally "Bell",
To still stretch for his Widow long to joy.
What pleasure-spot comes here to discover itself to my view.
Is this the house and estate of the happy Muse?
THALIA! is it true? Oh noble Nymph! who we see
Taking the second place in the row of Muses,
Do you live in the shade of these green lovelinesses?
Oh Yes! You lived there, as long as the sunlight
Has beamed in the view of your VANDER HOEVEN,
Who often made our high Theater laugh at his verses,
When he chose the breeches for decorated boots.
But alas! That darling is snatched from your arms,
THALIA, I see you yourself distressed by his death,
Your joy mourns and withers, the high-crowned trees,
The low plants, and the babbling streams
Weep for the man's bones, yes everything sighs and withers
For his sad death, the stone sculpture seems
To let the heads themselves hang from smart and mourning.
How many times did he make us listen here to his songs?
Which, caressing the ear, refreshed the heart with
A more magnificent sweetness than the heavenly banquet
Of nectar or ambrosia can please the Gods.
THALIA, it befits you to wear eternal mourning,
Clothe yourself and this place in black mourning-garb,
Even if one disdained the poet's funeral,
Letting him descend into the grave unwept,
Even if a bold hand dared to paint on this pleasure-spot,
The lean Thalia is not worth my attention.
But VANDER HOEVEN'S name makes her famous enough.
THALIA will live with him through his songs,
As long as the Flower-gods shall give either flower or herb:
Farewell THALIA! Bloom and stretch your new lord,
The brave HARTOO long to pleasure, and rest and honor,
While I continue my way to get higher up.
By what wonder is my spirit taken here?
Here one forces nature through artificial discretion,
Here Minerva shows all her spirit and shrewdness,
To make the elegant country-building sparkle in the most beautiful way.
Oh Shrewd Architecture! Come, inspire now with the sparks
Of your illustrious fire my incompetent intellect,
While you build palaces, where formerly hardly land
Was to be found, can it be? Dare I believe my eye?
Oh KALF! Your Estate-building goes far above others
In splendor, in standing, in beauty, and pleasant view,
Here the eye was all around in the mirror-reflecting light,
Along the IJ, the Meer The Haarlemmermeer, a large lake, the Canal, and lush country districts,
One can here at one time contemplate all the amusement
Of earth and water, through which the entire Universe lives.
Praise Zaantedam Zaandam so far as ever flag or pennant floats
Of your keels, which on Nereus' God of the sea wild whales used here as a term for waves/sea,
Sail the East or the West with their merchandise,
Praise your KALF, who enjoys his country-rest here,
And sees the sweet fruits of his diligence and care.

By the fragrant flower-bed, and the blooming of the trees,
Which often welcome him with bent crown,
When his Yacht cuts through the flood of the foaming IJ,
To where the high Dike frees the low land
From the senseless violence of the swollen floods,
Which often rage to the ruin of house- and farmer,
When the flat field stands equal with the sea:
But let us not bother ourselves with water-stream, or dike,
A lovelier tone stands for us to sing today.
Oh Wakeful KALF! Ornament of your villagers,
As far as a large row of cities must yield
Before the mighty Zaantedam, in every abundance,
So your pleasure-spot also lifts its head above with luster,
And closes the glory of many other Gentlemen's estates,
For Lady Nature, so it seems, had short-changed this ground
Of her gifts, where now the feathered-creature chirps
And greets the morning-light in the green of the young trees,
Yes Flora has, so it seems, taken her dwelling-place here,
In defiance of nature, as a sign of the favor,
Which she is indebted to KALF'S discretion and art,
Thus this estate will always bloom in honor and glory,
And grow with the growth of the waxing year-number;
Above all, as long as KALF bestows his care upon it.
Oh Beautiful pleasure-spot! I must with inward heart-pain
Leave your ground, to amuse myself further,
I shall approach HALFWEG Halfway, a location between Amsterdam and Haarlem immediately while walking,
Thus I turn myself back, and say to you the last farewell!
Apollo shall still play your praise on the holy string-play
Through time, to give your renown,
And to make Kalf's honorable Name live forever.
Now I am at HALFWEG! A little rested here,
And with a fresh drink a new pleasure is aroused.
I hear the hollow Meer already roaringly flowing hither,
The IJ seems to want to come up against her enraged,
They strike the stone Sluice on both sides with their flood,
Which terribly roars and rages when Aeolus God of the winds rages,
And stirs to ram the dike and sluice through the water.
Oh IJ-stream! Do not be angry that you are thus separated
From this Water-pest, which always rages and roars,
Now your free stream also remains free of all guilt,
When the Meer splashes the land with her whales;
Long must then sluice and dike protect the low land
From the flood of both of you, to the salvation of people and land,
In which Justice spans the highest tribunal!
There comes the tow-barge, overloaded with people,
These out of necessity, those to satiate themselves
In the lovely view, that one has on this resting-place.
Oh Shrewd Invention! Which gives us so many discoveries,
Who can ever value the invention of the Tow-barge?
One travels as if one sat at home, no jerks, turns,
Disturb the body, whether one travels by day or night,
One finds oneself while sleeping brought to the place,
Where the target of our will had taken its intent:
The Prince could not tame his wonder,
When he, oh near time! in the fatal year
Of seventy-two Refers to the disaster year of 1672, became aware of the Tow-barge,
Through the comfort, amusement, and utility of traveling thus:
No land can equal Holland in traveling,
To be out, or at home, at a neat time.
Apollo who from on high with your sunshine
See through the entire Universe, the works of your sons
Knows how to crown with honor, or shame, according to their value,
Give, give me your favor, and strengthen me with your counsel,
Where the ZWANENBURG approaches, that magnificent land-ornament,