Hollands Arcadia, of de vermaarde rivier den Amstel; : vertónende alle deszelfs lustplaatz...

The country amusement must be the only subject of your songs.
A different joy waits for us to be received immediately,
The corner of the Amstel gives us the honest Tuinzigt View of the Garden,
The airy summerhouse, constructed in an octagon,
Lifts its high crown from the softly flowing water,
Which rustles along its banks with lovely chatter,
Where it has a view of the great Merchant-city,
Or drifts again on the other side along the surface of the Amstel.
The Art-lover BLOK found his satisfaction here,
When he, in solitude, on sweet summer days,
Withdrew from the city, in order to find the sweet rest
Here, when the dew kisses the fresh flowers.
But alas, he will find no more joy on this spot,
That Art-lover has been taken from us by death,
His brave Widow now still finds her amusement
In the country life, where no envy, no cunning, no vengeance
Reigns as in the city, to disturb the harmony.
But will my Songstress let the Name of BLOK be heard,
And not mention Coerten? Her former Spouse.
No, great Woman! Even though you have been snatched away
By stern death long ago, your name shall live eternally,
To give your Art-circle its deserved praise:
That Art-circle, which so often has achieved the laurels,
And triumphed over the Etching-needle and the Brush,
Whether to paint portraits from life,
That no painting can match in beauty,
Or to cut the delicate floral work from paper,
Or an airy Landscape, with trees loose in elegance,
And to show them to the eyes in a beautiful pose,
Makes me still crown your memory with honor and praise.
Now I go further on, I have fulfilled my duty here,
There the BERENY lures my joyful Song-nymph,
To linger a little in its shady green.
Who does not stand astonished here to behold all the bustle
Of the people, whom pleasure, or necessity
Leads to other cities along the Amstel-stream?
This one goes to Utrecht, that one to princely The Hague,
Where Holland’s Fathers support freedom
Through wise policy and counsel; this one goes to Rotterdam,
That one to Gouda, or Delft, whether he came hither
To see Amsterdam, that show-jewel of the cities,
Or whether he goes thither for his business;
It swarms here always with people without number,
Sail on Trek-barges! Sail freed from misfortune!
But I see no fewer people drifting on the other side,
My eyes dim, everyone wants to embark on a journey,
One wants to go to Weesp, this one to Naarden, that one has the desire
To behold the humble Muiden, on the Zuiderzee coast,
To arrive from there at Muiderberg,
But I find myself occupied by another desire,
The glorious Amstel-stream pleases my sight,
To depict its luster in my poem,
And to decorate its reed-wreath with pure song-laurels,
If it is possible for me, even further.
The Path to the great Animal, named the ELEPHANT,
Renowned for its Gardens and its elegance,
Comes to appear most pleasantly on the other side.
How pleasant it is to live in the country in rest,
When the eye looks so wide and broad through the grass-rich field!
Oh Lovely view! Which sets the heart at peace,

How much, even if troubled by care, or other occupations,
One sees the Cows stepping through the lush clovers,
While the udders swell, until the Country-woman relieves them,
Who so carefully watches the time of milking,
Where she lets a cheerful song be heard by the morning light.
A row of Gardens can delight the most delicate eye here,
While each, built at its best, boasts of its beauty,
And thus pays its Landlord for all his care and diligence.
Now to view the HOEHOEMAKERS-PATH with its buildings,
And country-adornments; the eye can behold no end here,
The way is all too long, here joy and pleasure live,
When Amstel’s citizenry rests in this shadow,
By the shady green of the high-crowned trees,
While the farmer tries to obtain his profit,
When he gathers the mown Hay, now soon dried on the field,
Together, and sets it in small heaps,
To soon bring it into his barn with joy,
Then he sees the labor paid by his profit,
I approach PAUWENTUIN Peacock Garden, that inn so renowned
For its elegance, rightly twice worthy
To be visited, or to find rest,
One sits in the open air, covered from sun and winds
By dense trees, which with their elevated crown
Give a shadow to this pleasant garden,
How the Turret shines, from which on all sides,
Whether toward or from the city, our eyes can widen,
And play-maidens along the great Amstel-stream,
When amusement forces us to rest at its hem,
A whole Neighborhood seems to live together here,
There one has raised the building’s head on high,
And shines by the trees in a beautiful standing.
But I go further along the green waterfront
Where AMSTELLUST Amstel-delight comes to invite me to its adornments,
And although the gate forbids the entrance of the road,
I judge its beauty from its exterior state,
The magnificent Summerhouse, which occupies the corner of the court,
The fencing-work, enclosed with steep rising trees,
Can tame the curious eye in its lust,
While often in the guise of pleasure, the craftiness
Serves as play-ruin to sow hatred and discord afterwards,
And thereby to harm the fellow man,
Here the prying eye will not reveal the secret,
As Miss Delbeeck enjoys the pleasure of the land there,
And beholds the growth of the trees, and flower and herb,
Happily live those who may thus live according to their wish,
Never must cheerfulness leave this AMSTELLUST!
Now to the pleasure-garden of lord SLICHER, who often
Prefers the land to the city. How beautiful, how grand of standing
Does the Court-building show itself, decorated with six pillars,
I see the entrance guarded by a large gate,
Which is decorated with a green Garland on both sides
And denies passage when the thirst for robbery raves and roars,
To satisfy its greed in the dark night,
And sometimes does not shy away from bathing in blood.
Wicked Robbers! Here your course is halted,
The wise precaution makes violence and cunning useless:
The green hedge was closed on both sides
With houses, which increase the beauty of this place.
Oh Lovely sight! It falls difficult for me to go further,
My Song-nymph is completely satisfied by this garden,
Thus she wishes well-content, in her country-songs,
That here lord SLICHER may receive for many more years
All that a mortal enjoys for rest and pleasure!
There is the Milestone of the Amsterdam territory,

Decorated with the coat of arms of the honor-crown of all cities,
As well in merchantry, as treasure and lordliness.
Now that the eye has turned to the other side of the Amstel
So my cheerfulness finds no end by this stream,
For how further I go, how I feel my eager desire for travel
And my attention satisfied by more adornments,
The beauty grows here where Peace lives,
Where through her, Abundance gives a treasure of fruits.
Oh AMSTELVREUGD! Amstel-joy You can please me from afar,
Your Builder has rightly made you bear this name,
For where is greater joy than at the silvery stream,
Where lord VAN NULT calmly enjoys the country amusement,
And sees his labor paid by a beautiful growth?
Where he rests at the flower-bed by Lilies of the valley,
Narcissus, and violet, or rose and carnation,
Each grows here at the most beautiful in color, in scent and elegance,
While the trees are loaded with blossom and fruit.
How the Court-building shines by these garden-adornments,
Where the eye has a spacious view on the Amstel-stream:
The fast Trek-barge flies along its green hem
That the water fizzes, and seems to give an echo back,
To the joy of those who live on their estates,
And in the outer air relieve themselves of care,
When their business is fulfilled in the city.
Who can withdraw his attention from this country-amusement?
The more when the eye beholds the gates on both sides,
Which deny the entrance, whether the Master of the Court who escapes,
And gives the garden-view as prey to the curious eye,
How magnificently they shine decorated with four pillars,
And airy latticework, to guard this pleasure-place
Against calamity or bad weather. Farewell, oh AMSTEL-VREUGD!
May lord VAN NULT always rejoice in your shadow,
And long may he receive the country-amusement on your ground,
To obtain a double joy for his diligence and care;
Where to my Singer? Why do you wander off the track?
Are you departing from the Amstel-stream? Stand firm! Ah, listen!
But how you tread through the field and lush clover-pastures,
What reason forces you to separate from your main stream?
Or is it to see the little Sheep grazing in the land,
Which with its soft wool, when a shepherd’s hand
Has sheared it off, is so useful to us and of value;
That it even serves Princes, yes the Kings of the earth,
Dipped in purple paint, as an ornament,
And covers the body against the heat and against the cold.
Is this it? Then your outside tread can please me,
Yes amiable little sheep, worthy to carry the fame of the Cattle,
While you give us useful clothing from your wool,
And with the noble liquid, your milk, as long as you live
Serves for our refreshment, you can delight my eye,
Where you come to me so modestly and so softly,
And in the same state, as in the golden Age,
Knows yet of no evil, but trembles, when the shouting
Of the Wolves frightens you, ignorant of defense,
You try only to turn yourself toward your shepherd.
Simple little sheep, was the human race
Like you, virtue shone in its full power,
One would know no discord, nor hatred, nor vengeance, nor bloodthirst,
But accustom oneself to solitude and brotherly love,
One needed neither straw nor sword for the closure of evil,
No! harmony shone everywhere in a perfect state,

But how? Where am I here in my reflections?
A row of houses I see surrounding a spacious place;
Where the Indian Cotton hangs in its Frames,
When it receives its flower and color through art,
And defies the best Chintz, which Java can give us,
But I have described that Printing-art in another place,
Thus I pass this by and wish lord COOYS good luck,
And to receive full abundance through his printing.
To provide a support for the craftsman still for long,
Who from his labor must draw the daily food
For him, for wife and offspring, and further household,
Now I step joyfully back into my old footprint,
To find my eye-amusement along the Amstel-side,
Where Zephyrus the West Wind caresses me with balmy west winds.
I see BRANDWYK already from afar, and approach the beautiful building,
It carries its broad crown full of luster into the light,
And stretches three spires upward, which precisely show us,
Where Aeolus the god of the winds flies with his swift sons,
Where he has the wide air for his racecourse,
And sometimes blows with violence from the south to the north,
Or presses from the east to attack the west,
When he, unexpectedly, has broken out from the clouds,
Lifts the formerly calm sea to hills,
And strikes the clear stars with the splashing foam
And thunders over the surface of the unbridled waves,
That nowhere ship, nor boat dared to navigate Thetis’ the sea bosom,
Better my Song-nymph keeps herself here on the Amstel-side,
Where the water softly fizzes and flows through the flat land,
She can amuse herself more safely on BRANDWYK'S ground,
Than where one hears mast or keel crack on cliff, or rock,
And where the Sailor sighs in the burning of the need,
One fears no watery death here by the green;
The Summerhouses are more worthy to my sight,
Which along the carriage-road, on the corner of the court, so nicely
Are built square, mirroring themselves in the current,
Where through lord MARSSEVEER often enjoys his pleasure.
Farewell! Oh BRANDWYK! I go, to behold more amusement,
Where the old Herb-mill-path can hold my attention,
While lord VAN DRUPPINGE has his pleasure-garden there,
Which gives a lovely view to this green corner.
How beautifully does this place show itself from the outside?
Happy is he who may live here in peace,
And taste the own fruit gained on his ground,
Whereon the dew still floats, which the morning hour
With the rise of Aurora the Dawn so kindly comes to give us,
Then the Cherry, Morello and Peach seem to live first,
When it feels its fruit refreshed by that heavenly wet,
Before the first morning-ray glances on the eastern horizon.
Up! Up! We go further on, my Song-heroine, it must be,
No lazy sluggishness must make us fear for the way,
The beauty which meets us will amply satisfy the labor.
There we see a garland of the most pleasant green,
Which encloses BORSENBURG where its square walls
And roof lifts to heaven to endure the centuries,
The opened garden-gate gives us a free view,
A cabinet constructed at the end of this lane,

* See the mirror of Amsterdam's Summer-joy, or the Images of these Pleasure-grounds on the Amstel-stream.