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

Where the city’s defense referring to the magistrate or civic governance keeps him steadily occupied,
When he builds Themis’ throne referring to the goddess of justice upon the marble Town Hall,
To weigh everything on her scale according to right and law,
Whereby his Venerability has earned a name of honor,
Which lives with this pleasure garden until the world’s end,
Where neither time nor envy ever harms the glory of both.
I approach the pleasure estate where Lady VAN LOON spends her days
In solitude, and enjoys all her contentment
As a widow in the state of country-pleasure,
While her Husband, alas! left her too soon,
When Atropos’ one of the Fates, who cuts the thread of life stubbornness took him from her arms,
For which even the Amstel stream cannot tame its sorrow.
But you, Madam! you live here in a quiet rest,
The garden house, the trees, and the summerhouse give you delight
And joy wherever you go; you see the tender sprouts,
When the balmy spring comes to open our earth,
As they go happily and rejoicing in a dance for you,
Live long here in peace, so is my wish fulfilled!
Now stepped toward the pleasure garden of the Lord ORSOY.
What splendor shines here! what lovely things do I see?
Although my entrance is defined by the iron gate,
Which boasts pillars on either side,
Decorated with vases that give a visible sign
Of all the beauty that ever lives on in this garden.
A green hedge fringes the fresh water-side:
The trees here are planted so closely, so near to each other,
That the eye finds no passage, but is held back everywhere,
Only to behold the beauty from the entrance,
A fresh border closes the forecourt on either side:
Everything here dresses itself in a green livery,
To provide a dwelling place for Love and Virtue,
And to cover those displaced by the shading green.
Yes, Love and Virtue, how often you are despised, insulted,
I know that you dwell here safely and well-assured,
As long as Lord ORSOY shall tread this place,
We know how he often came to dedicate his labor
To assist the poor in their need and misfortune,
The office of Deacon, so laudably fulfilled by him,
Has raised him to the honorary step of Elder,
Whereby Love and Virtue continue to live in his pleasure garden.
The magnificent garden-structure lifts its crown on high,
And gives a pleasant display on the flat land
Through the rising roof-work, with its bowls and ornaments.
Oh, if I could only satiate my sight in the beauty
Of the noble art of painting, which has its dwelling here,
I had not experienced a happier hour until now!
But time forbids me to tarry here:
Farewell then, beautiful place! ornament of the country buildings,
Shine, shine through your ORSOY like a bright sun!
And extend to the young Lord a Helicon the mountain of the Muses for a long time,
To follow the laudable poetic path of Apollo,
So shall you be adored for Love, Virtue, and Poetry!
Here my song-heroine finds a new desire,
As she entertains herself by the wild AMSTEL-RUST,
And sees the entrance with its neatly shorn Hedges,
The Taxis yew trees trunks, which bear their green buds,
Shorn by art, enlarge the adornment.
It is all here at its most beautiful where the eye ever wanders.
Two green Arches, sprung up from the garden soil,
Decorate the entrance where the Garden-gate is opened,
The Garden-gate, which boasts so wide with its pillars,
When the sunlight shines upon the ashlar work,
That which covers its crown can please me at the highest level;
Yes, I would never ask for other beauty here,
Unless the garden house tempted me with its ornament,
Which spreads itself on one side up to the road.
The rising roof-work climbs far above all the trees.
But how! what do I see? or is my sight taken from me?
Does a Triton here boast on his steep spirit? can it be?
Does he endure here the radiance of Phoebus’ the sun's sunlight,
And does he not shrink back to Thetis’ the sea's cool waves?
Oh no, his water-horn wants to proclaim the sweet pleasure,
Which has established its seat on AMSTEL-RUST,
When Lord STRUK greets the rising morning-light here,
And picks the sweet fruit laden with fresh dew,
To satiate the sight and taste together,
Whereupon my song-heroine wishes him that this happiness
May increase year upon year, freed from disaster or pressure!
There I see PINGELERBURG, ROMSWINKEL’S contentment,
When he seeks to bestow his pleasure on country-fun,
Be it on the carriage-road, where the summerhouse gives a view,
And the eye hovers on all sides along the flat of the Amstel,
Or that the garden house keeps him enthralled,
A garden house, so beautiful, so magnificent in our eyes
As many a Prince’s court, showing itself on every side
Equally grand in splendor, as stately in standing.
But while my looking in is taken away by the fence,
I try to obtain a resting place a little further on,
Where the humble KALJE invites me into its shadow.
Here I am refreshed again by Ceres’ goddess of grain tasty bread,
And the pleasant sap of Bacchus’ god of wine muscatels,
Which swell by sun and rain during the summer time,
To feed us on the fragrant blood, and to make the spirit
Rejoice at one festival or another.
While I am seated here on the corner of 'T LOOFVELD,
And my fatigue is soon forgotten through the rest,
I see with wonder how the countryman lives alone,
Where he does not have enough neighbors near him,
And yet knows how to earn his sustenance through his diligence.
Pleasant loneliness, how you caress my senses!
If I could live here, to establish a humble country-altar,
And crowned with laurels around the hair,
For Phoebus and the dance of the Mnemosynean referring to the Muses maidens,
The Mountain-goddesses, who often supported me.
To offer Sabaean incense day by day,
So would I show my duty to their thought-reverence;
So would my song-heroine, shone upon by their rays,
Draw her breath even further in the field of art,
But while the bustle of the city binds me to its business,
I must be content with the portion allotted to me,
Thus I go further on in my reflections,
To sing the glory of my Birth-stream.
There I see RUISCHENSTEYN, that choice country-ornament,
The green hedge, which goes around this pleasure-place,
Can tame the flying eye in its drift,
The more so when it sees the steep Taxis trees,
So high and pointed of tip, always broad and wide of foot,
That along the Amstel-stream no counterpart is met:
The great front-gate with its magnificent pillars
And iron fences, where art wishes to equal

The hardness of the metal, entices the eager sight.
Mathematical Archimedes, have you established this gate?
Have you risen again to adorn RUISCHENSTEYN?
We are always obliged to crown your name with laurels,
While this pleasure-place is made famous by your art.
But how! what great happiness, the Lord of the Court, courteous by nature,
Invites us to behold the inner beauty of RUISCHENSTEYN.
Venerable BELLEMONTE I shall trust in you
And follow where you go. How is the eye caressed here,
When it plays through the green of the broad lanes,
Whose trees give a cool shadow heaven-high.
Here one hears the feathered creatures living in luxury and delight,
Each sings the glory of the flourishing Ruischensteyn.
What beautiful resting place to rest from wind and sunlight,
Does it appear like a Theater?
The Perspective-science seems to live here in its court,
So neatly is this place established according to its art.
We step thither with an enraptured sight,
To step along the stone stairs as if onto a Stage,
Where the art of painting lives with its splendors.
But how! where am I? or does Circe show her power here?
I am captured and in freedom by her strength:
The water foams and sprays from the ground with many rays!
Which define for me the exit of this pleasure-chamber:
But this prison is so lovely, so sweet,
That it satisfies me more than freedom itself,
Yes, I am flown away too quickly from this bond,
So can this water-work please my sight,
The more so, because something strange hides in this clear crystal,
The water that discovers itself everywhere along the Amstel
Is brackish and salt, this spring only excepted
Is sweet, which keeps me amazed at the tasting:
It seems that nature comes to offer hand and help to RUISCHENSTEYN,
To adorn this jewel of the land, with its gifts,
Along with its ornaments.
But it will be time to turn back Court-wards again,
Where the eye has a free view along the lush meadow.
How! do I come here in the field where Mavors Mars/war dwells and lives?
Oh yes! I see his tent pitched, let us flee,
I hate war with its murdering rumors.
But I see the Lord of the Court laughs and invites me to go on,
One hears no alarm here, nor march, nor attack beaten,
Oh no! Peace is enthroned in this Tent,
To give the playing eye a beautiful sight,
Whether it turns to the land, or toward the Court,
It finds here a joy, that has no equal, nor end.
But we go further on to behold the remaining beauty.
There I see a round Bowl hewn from hard stone,
The American fruit, the tasty Pineapple
Boasts in the middle, as the pride of the earth-crop,
Where around four Cups stand sprayed out in a dancing circle,
And four Dolphins, as if cast from pure gold,
Decorate this Bowl along its raised rim;
The Four seasons, with their signs in hand,
Are seated on the backs of the Dolphins,
To such a piece of work neither art nor diligence is forgotten.
With what wonder is my heart touched anew,
The lifeless is made lively here,
The Cups, the Pineapple spread water rays,
The four Dolphins, which boast with double jumps,
Enlarge the rushing of the playing crystal,
That sows a thousand pearls, and glitters through the shine
Of the sunbeams like a series of diamonds,
Which blind the eye through their radiance from all sides.
I stand enthralled by all the beauty paired together here;
You are, oh RUISCHENSTEYN! a Paradise on earth!
I follow the Lord of the Court, who goes to step elsewhere:
This broad lane provides me with new splendors,
The more so, since the rest is offered to me here.
Courteous Lord! I would do your kindness too much injustice,
If I dared to refuse or resist your request,
The Virginian herb tobacco will give me new desires,
Strengthened by the nectar-sap, to go further on,
When I have fulfilled your kindness with gratitude:
Fulfilled! no, never fulfilled, I must always remain indebted to you,
You may underscore the Coat of Arms through Loyalty and Virtue,
Renowned Lord! of you and of your Spouse,
That motto fits you rightly, while you increase virtue,
And faithfully safeguard the Right of Hospitality in this court,
How often that is profaned by others.
Now it is time, my Lord, that my Song-heroine
Betakes herself further, I enter this lane again,
And past the magnificent house, which along the green summer
Sees the silver water always streaming around its walls,
Along which a drawbridge gives free access by day,
But by night resists the plundering-greed and mischief,
Should anyone ever dare to assault this pleasure-place.
Farewell courteous Lord! as long as I shall remember
The Amstel-shores, your kindness will not escape me.
Now I am outside the gate, I still stand amazed,
And say constantly to myself, who would ever have dared beforehand
To name this Place with the name of Kostverloren Lost-Cost,
Where RUISCHENSTEYN’s value is more than double worth?
For the most beautiful is there where nature and art are paired together,
Two noble gifts that crown this land-jewel.
The winding Amstel comes to show itself beautiful here again,
Where so many bends and corners, that the eye
Finds almost no way out. What pleasant display
Does make me stand still again by its green shorn Hedges?
Oh Land-ground! what do you have to bear in terms of garden-houses
Along Amstel’s broad border, here OUDMYL presses you again,
This garden-structure raises itself so proudly for the honor
OF WITTERT, who is as white as he is pure in morals,
To lead to the top, as he comes to taste the rest
In these lovely things by the sweet summer time,
The Bird-flight an aviary so beautiful, so large, so broad, so wide,
Can with its luster equal that of princes;
The rising roof-work rests and leans on its pillars,
Whose opening, everywhere decorated with lattice-work,
Gives a free view of how the fowl flies and swerves,
While one is shaded on both sides by the trees.
Never must disaster or sorrow befall you OUDMYL.
Apollo how do you not ride the earth-globe around more.
The day descends, and I meet the MORNING-LIGHT!
What strange power makes these wonders happen?
Who can, oh Sun-guardian! forbid your progress,
No Atreus-blood, nor Philomela’s revenge,
Or Caesar’s sour murder forces you to this matter,
Do you flee, then I flee also back to the Amstel walls.
But where can the wandering brain fall into all my wanderings,
When it forgets itself too much in the enthusiasm:
The beautiful pleasure-place, which lies here before my eyes,