HOLLANDS ARCADIA,

Or the renowned River

THE AMSTEL;

Has Vondel's Joost van den Vondel (1587–1679), famous Dutch poet astute pen described the swift Rhine,
And will Antonides Jan Antonides van der Goes (1647–1684), poet famous for his poem "The Y-stroom" live forever through the Y-stream?
I follow the praiseworthy path of those literary heroes,
To dedicate my Birth-stream, if it were possible,
To the centuries through rising heroic poetry;
Not that an empty delusion has struck my brain,
To ever equal the Agrippine Referring to Cologne, the birthplace of Vondel, or the great Goose-Swan Nickname for Vondel,
Or to pass them by:
Oh no! I know their strength and also my inability:
But my Songstress, transported in rapture,
Follows an honorable decision, since the exquisite landscape
Is her pleasure and life; through which she so often
Found a full joy in her reflections,
Where she spent time singing in honor of the land.
Oh Mighty Amsterdam! That lies so widely stretched along the hem
Of the Y The river/bay at Amsterdam, and mirrors in the stream
Your pointed Towers, and fame-worthy grand buildings,
It pleases me to once behold you from the Amstel-side,
And upon your proud lock, raised out of the water,
Where art and industry shine with full splendor,
Which established its foundation on thirty-five arches,
To contemplate the beauty of your city and greatness.
Here I see your sluice, which turns and stops the water,
Or closes its doors again for the Amstel-stream,
Where so many hundreds of boats rush forth
With the noblest fruits, that grow in Holland's gardens,
That everyone is enraptured by that perfect sight,
Which lasts as long as the sun illuminates our part of the world.
There the South Church Zuiderkerk shows off with its elevated Tower,
Here again the Old Church Oude Kerk, which seems to pierce the air,
While its steep spire seems to disappear from sight,
There, further on, the Mint Munttoren appears to the view,
And shows off with its Tower, everywhere famous for the playing
Of its bells, which caress the most exquisite ears,
When a swift hand beats to the measure;
A little further one still sees in a perfect state
The Montalbaan Tower, which, though by high years
Aged, still wishes to preserve the noble art,
Yes, even to decorate with more ornament than before,
So architecture binds the old and the new together.
Now the eye once cast with attention upon the Orphanage,
To which the Deaconry has been tasked with the management,

Whose wise precaution ever feeds the Fatherless there,
Provides them maintenance, and protects them from need,
So as never to fear poverty, nor hunger,
This seems not to be an Orphanage, but a prince's court,
So grandly has it its crown and gables in the air.
Oh Merchant-city of Europe! Always receive the fruit
Of your charity in trusting in the Poor,
So will always the abundance of the North, West, South and East
Flow into your lap, and make it so that your Name
More than old Rome floats on the wings of Fame.
It is time to move from this lock toward the sconce,
Since my zeal is driven to the land-delight.
I approach the Utrecht-gate in the shadow of the green,
Which the Cattle Market gives us, in the pleasant season.
The outer canal now hurriedly stepped past,
For the Amstel is the target of my desires.
But stop my Song-nymph, stop; what thundering sound,
What deafening war-noise, what smoke and vapor from the powder
Blinds my eyes, and comes to deafen my hearing?
What strange enemy wants to deprive us of freedom?
Let him come, the Amstel-city expects him undaunted,
But thinks that she carries the harsh thunder in her hand,
And shoots fierce lightning from her elevated walls,
If ever a robber harpy comes to attack her glory,
The flood swarms everywhere with Yachts: ah! I stray,
The Lion of Holland adorns the mast of the Admiral,
This fleet is not to beset one or the other,
But to carry away the prize of sailing:
The free Batavian Old name for the Dutch people folk has long been the terror
Of the Tyrants, to crush them mightily, unafraid,
And with the power of people and warships,
To sweep the enemy's fleets from the ocean,
This the fresh youth learns in this small fleet,
Everyone knows what he must do at the very first shot,
Either to turn, or to close up together,
In order to thus learnedly, in need, crush the enemies,
And on the wide sea, in the flame and glow of war
To do in earnest, what one does here in playing:
Long must then this pleasure live in peace and prosperity,
To give alert Sailors to our Amstel-city,
Whose keels plow the Amstel around all the seas!
But where does my Songstress, where does your zeal lead you?