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THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


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BATAVIAN  ANTHOLOGY. 


'  Op,  Bilderdijken  !  op !  bedwingt  dien  toon  niet  langer, 

Gij,  Feithen  van  mijne  eeuw.  op  u  alleen  nog  grootsch  ! 
Op,  Helmers,  staaf  or.ze  eer,  stoutmoedig,  vurig  zanger ! 
Vervul  dien  dubblen  pligt,  oorspronkelijke  Loots ! 
Voor  raij,  gcwend  aan  zachter  kwelen, 
'k  Wil  langer  huislijk  heil  noch  kindscligekozcl  spelen, 
Maar  tintlen  van  den  gloed,  die  door  uw  aadren  ziedt ; 
Voor  mij,  ik  wil,  in  stouter  noten, 
Mijn  krachten  met  mijn  moed  vergrooten. 
En  staamlcn,  waar  gij  zingt,  den  weerklank  van  uw  lied." 

TOLLENS. 


BATAVIAN  ANTHOLOGY; 

OR, 

SPECIMENS 

OF  THE 

DUTCH  POETS; 

WITH  REMARKS  ON  THE  POETICAL  LITERATURE  AND 
LANGUAGE  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS, 

TO  THE  END  OF 

THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 


JOHN  BOWRING, 

Honorary  Correspondent  of  the  Royal  InstittUe  of  the  Netherlands,  Sjc. 
AND 

HARRY  S.  VAN  DYK. 


"  Bloeit,  Hollands  taal  en  poezij  !  " 
Da  Costa. 


LONDON: 

PRINTED  FOR  TAYLOR  AND  HESSEY, 

93,  FLEET  STREET, 

AND  13,  WATERLOO-PLACE,  PALL  MALL. 

1824. 


rHINTEI)  BY  KICHARS  TAYLOR,  SHOE  LANE. 


-FT 


BILDERDYK,  FEITH,  DA  COSTA,  AND 
DE  CLERCQ. 

Ye  know  us  not— and  yet  we  seem  to  hold 
Ilallow'd  communion  with  your  spirits,— even 
As  tiiough  ye  had  thrown  off  earth's  mantle  cold. 
And  walk'd,  bright  angels,  in  tlie  fields  of  heaven. 

Yes !  we  have  heard  your  voices,  and  have  striven 
In  the  far  echoes  of  our  songs  t'  unfold 
Tlie  music  of  your  land.     With  names  of  old. 
Which  memory  has  from  blank  oblivion  riven. 

We  would  wreathe  names  as  fair.     The  mighty  sea. 
On  which  the  muse  puts  forth  her  timid  sail. 
Still  widens — still  invites— for  poetry 

Is  one  embracing  bond  of  sympathy, 
\\Tiich,  when  the  tempests  and  the  tides  prevail. 
Gives  peace,  and  promise  of  security. 

In  this  sad  world,  where  the  eternal  jar 
Of  passion,  interest,  discord  and  debate. 
Questions  of  policy  and  faith  and  state. 
Tear  up  tlie  virtues,  with  the  affections  war, 

'Tis  sweet  to  mingle  thoughts  with  those  afar. 
Who  are  beyond  tlie  reach  of  selfish  hate ; 
Who  shine  and  smile,  like  the  fair  morning  star. 
Above  the  valley's  mist :  to  consecrate 

At  that  proud  altar-shrine,  that  towers  sublime 
'Midst  all  the  storms  and  all  the  wrecks  of  time. 
Whose  holy  flame  bums  on — and  as  it  bums. 

All  that  is  base  to  light  and  beauty  turns, — 
Our  words  and  wills  :  for  man  should  be  man's  friend, 
\jas^  the  pervading  law— and  bliss  the  end. 


a3 


492065 

UBRART 


NOTICE. 


The  present  volume,  as  its  title-page  ex- 
presses, brings  the  Literature  of  Holland  only 
down  to  the  time  of  Broekhuizen.  We  hope 
it  will  be  soon  followed  by  a  continuation  to 
our  own  days,  than  which  no  prouder  period  of 
literature  has  a  place  in  the  rolls  of  time. 

We  owe  much  to  our  Dutch  friends  for  the 
encouragement  they  have  given,  and  the  in- 
formation they  have  communicated:  and  we 
cannot  refrain  from  recording  our  obligations  to 
De  CLERcg,  Da  Costa,  Bilderdyk,  Siegen- 
BEEK,  and  Delange.  We  might  mention  other 
names,  but  fear  we  should  be  accused  of  parad- 
ing the  objects  of  our  gratitude. 

It  has  not  been  possible,  in  a  work  of  such 
narrow  limits,  to  give  spe'iimens  of  all  the  Poets 


of  Holland ;  but  we  have  deemed  it  fit  to  make 
out  a  tolerably  complete  list  of  those  who  have 
obtained  any  considerable  reputation,  whom  we 
have  not  been  able  otherwise  to  notice,  down  to 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  In  another 
volume  we  propose  to  publish  Translations  of 
the  modern  Poets,  among  whom  many  take  a 
high  stand  for  the  intellectual  power,  grace  and 
beauty  of  their  works. 


THIRTEENTH    CENTURY. 


Willem  Utenhoven. 

Calfstaf. 

Noijdekijn. 

Clais  van  Brechten, 


And  the  anonymous  Au- 
thors of  the 
Crudenboec  and 
Karel  en  Elegast. 


FOURTEENTH   CENTURY. 

Lodewijk  van  Velthem.      |  Niclaes  de  Klerck. 


FIFTEENTH    CENTURY. 


Anthonis  de  Rouere. 
The  Author  of  the  Siege 
of  Troy.  ^ 


Andries  de  Smit. 
Dirk  van  Munster. 
Lambertus  Goetman. 


IX 


SIXTEENTH    CENTURY. 


Matthijs  Casteleijn. 
Cornelis  van  Ghistele. 
Colijn  van  Rijssele. 
Edewaerd  de  Deene. 
Jan  Frui tiers. 
Dirk  Volkert  Coornhert. 
Carel  van  Mander. 
Petrus  Dathenus. 


Philip  van  Marnix. 
Jan  Babtist  Houwaert. 
Peeter  Heijns.     '*' 
Zacharias  Heijns. 
Roemer  Visscher. 
Henrik   Laurens    Spieg- 
hel. 


SEVENTEENTH    CENTURY. 


Samuel  Coster. 
Jan  van  der  Veen. 
Jan  Six. 
Francis  Martijn. 
Hendrik  Bruno. 
Rixtel. 
Jan  Zoet. 
Van  der  Burg. 
Jacob  ReviuB. 
Anthonij  de  Huibert. 
Adriaan  Hoffer. 
Hieronijmus  Sweers. 
Jan  van  Someren. 
Pieter  de  Groot. 
Johannes  VoUenhove. 
Samuel  Hoogstraaten. 
Joachim  Oudaen. 
Andries  Pels. 


Joan  Pluijmer. 
Arnold  Monen. 
Pieter  Verhoek. 
Willem  Focquenbroch. 
Herman  Dullaert. 
Dirck  Buijsero. 
Petrus  Francius. 
Laurens  Bake. 
Ludolf  Smids. 
Jan  de  Regt. 
Francois  Halma. 
David  van  Hoogstraaten. 
Katharina  Leskailje. 
Jan  Luiken. 
Lucas  Rotgans. 
Kasper  Brandt. 
Johannes  Brandt. 
Jan  Baptista  Wellekens. 


ERRATA. 

Page    57,  line  i5,/ar  deliverer  read  true  lover 

1 15,  last  line,^r  his  Speelsmate  read  one  of  his  odes 

—  148,  line  11, /or  furnisht  read  furnish'd 

.       17,  for  undeckt  read  undeck'd 

150,  line  20,/or  his  read  His 

— —  200,  after  2d  verse  insert 


CONTENTS. 


■; 


Page 

Jacob  van  Maerlant 21 

Melis  Stoke   ; 25 

Jan  van  Helu— Thomas  of  Ghesaert— Heijnric  van  Hol- 
land       26 

Lodewijk  van  Veltliem    29 

Claes  Willems— Jan  or  Willem  de  Weert  van  Ypren— 

Jacop  Vilt 30 

The  brothers  Grimm    32 

Jan  van  den  Dale 37 

Anna  Byns    39 

Jan  Fruitiers — Dirk  Coornhert 44 

Petrus  Dathenus — Philip  van  Marnix — Jan  Babtist  Hou- 
waert— Peeter    Heyns— —  Zacharias     Heyns — Roemer 

Visscher — Hendrik  Spieghcl 46 

Pieter  Cornelis  Hooft 53 

Maria  Tesselschade  Visscher 67 

Jacob  Cats     71 

Laurens  Reael 81 

Gerbrand  Brederode     85 

Daniel  Heins    101 

Kasper  van  Baerle    105 

Huig  de  Groot 109 

Diik  Rafael  Kamphuyzen 113 

Joust  van  den  Vondel 125 

Constantijn  Huijgens 153 


Jeremias  de  Decker 165 

Daniel  Joncktijs    183 

Jan  Vos     .    187 

Jan  KruU 191 

Jacob  Westerbaen    195 

Reinier  Anslo 201 

Jan  de  Brune   205 

Gerard  Brandt 209 

Thomas  Arents      219 

Joannes  Antonides  van  der  Goes 223 

Jan  van  Broekhuizen 233 


POETICAL  LITERATURE 


THE   NETHERLANDS. 


There  is  a  country  almost  within  sight  of  tlie 
shores  of  our  island,  whose  literature  is  less 
known  to  us  than  that  of  Persia  or  Hindostan : 
a  country,  too,  distinguished  for  its  civilization, 
and  its  important  contributions  to  the  mass  of 
human  knowledge'.  Its  language  claims  a  close 
kindred  with  our  own ;  and  its  government  has 
been  generally  such  as  to  excite  the  sympathies 
of  an  English  spirit  It  is  indeed  most  strange, 
that  while  the  Poets  of  Germany  have  found 
hundreds  of  admirers  and  thousands  of  critics, 
those  of  a  land  nearer  in  position — more  allied 
by  habit  and  by  history  with  our  thoughts  and 

'  We  owe  to  the  Dutch  the  discovery  of  the  arts  of  Printing 
and  Oil  Painting :  we  owe  to  them  the  Microscope  and  the 
Pendulum, 

B 


Z  POETICAL   LITERATURE 

recollections — should  have  been  passed-by  un- 
noticed. It  would  be  as  soon  expected  to  hear 
the  birds  of  the  East  filling  our  woods  and  val- 
leys with  their  songs,  as  to  find  the  Batavian 
minstrels  in  our  libraries  or  our  drawing-rooms. 
And  it  would  appear  as  if  they  had  been  ex- 
cluded after  a  fair  estimate  of  their  claims, — so 
absolute  has  been  the  sentence  of  condemna- 
tion *; — ^yet  there  are  many  among  them  whose 
reputation  is  as  firmly  established,  though  not  so 
widely  diffused,  as  that  of  the  most  renowned 
among  the  sons  of  fame.  But  Vondel  himself, 
ingenious,  emphatic  and  sublime,  as  he  is,  has 
never  found  an  interpreter,  perhaps  scarcely  ever 
even  a  reader,  in  England. 

Classics,  painters,  men  of  science — such  names 
as  Erasmus,  Grotius,  Lipsius,  and  Boerhaave — 
fill  the  pages  of  the  literary  history  of  the  Ne- 
therlands; and  it  would  be  strange  indeed  if  these 
pages  were  quite  deserted  by  the  sons  of  song. 

'  The  Dutch  have  not  so  neglected  the  poetical  literature  of 
England.  Da  Costa's  translations  from  Lord  Byron  are  worthy 
of  both.  We  have  just  seen  a  version  of  Mrs.  Barbauld's  beau- 
tiful hymns  by  Mr.  J.  T.  Lange,  preserving  all  the  simplicity, 
the  elegance,  harmony,  and  beauty  of  the  original. 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS.  8 

Events  the  most  extraordinary,  and  characters 
the  most  original  and  sublime,  arrest  the  atten- 
tion in  the  varied  but  interesting  history  of  Hol- 
land. Nothing  can  be  more  imposingly  tragic 
than  the  story  of  the  old  Barneveldt  and  of  the 
hapless  De  Witts.  The  struggles  in  favour  of 
civil  and  religious  freedom,  and  their  triumphant 
results — ^the  proud  march  of  the  Batavian  repub- 
lic in  increasing  injBuence  and  dignity — every 
thing  seems  to  have  conspired  to  give  interest  to 
a  Uterature  and  a  language  which  have  hitherto 
scarcely  penetrated  beyond  their  own  natural  and 
narrow  bounds.  The  land  that  gave  birth  to  a 
Laurence  Coster  • — to  him  who  created  the 
means  by  which  knowledge  and  civilization  were 
conveyed  through  half  the  world— cannot  be 
neglected  in  days  like  these.  The  country  of 
Rubens  and  Vandyk,  of  Rembrandt  and  Ruys- 
daal,  and  a  hundred  besides — "  whose  glory  is 


'  The  claim  of  Holland  to  the  invention  of  Printing  has  been 
established  beyond  the  reach  of  controversy  by  Mr.  J.  Koning's 
learned  work.  The  4th  centenary  of  this  all-important  disco- 
very was  celebrated  at  Haarlem  on  the  lOth  and  11th  July, 
1823 ;  and  a  deputation  of  printers  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  at- 
tend and  honour  the  festival. 

b2 


«  POETICAL  LITERATURE 

gone  forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth," — ^has  chil- 
dren too  of  the  elder,  the  diviner  art  In  Holland 
the  seeds  of  poetical  genius  have  been  scattered — 
in  Holland  they  have  budded  and  blossomed — 
they  have  been  brightened  by  the  dew  of  natural 
feeling — they  have  been  shone  on  by  the  sun  of 
enthusiasm :  they  are  fair — they  are  fragrant, — 
and  we  have  ventured  to  gather  and  transplant 
them  to  our  own  flower-garden. 

Nor,  among  the  claims  of  Holland  to  the  at- 
tention of  mankind,  should  it  be  forgotten  that 
it  was  the  country  in  which  Haller  and  Linnaeus 
and  Descartes  pursued  their  studies  and  formed 
their  characters. 

Many  causes  have  contributed  to  the  neglect 
of  the  Dutch  writers;  and  some  of  those  causes 
have  no  doubt  had  their  origin  in  a  false  estimate 
of  the  character  of  the  people,  and  in  their  own 
inattention  to  their  language  and  literature.  A 
more  potent  cause,  however,  has  been  a  real  ig- 
norance of  the  existence  of  any  thing  that  could 
put  in  its  claim  to  the  name  of  Belgian  Poetry ; 
and  convinced  as  we  are  that  long  arrears  are 
due  for  our  indifference  or  disregard,  we  would 
entreat  those  whom  our  little  volume  may  fail  to 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS.  » 

convince,  not  to  cast  aside  the  originals  as  worth- 
less and  intrusive,  even  should  our  version  of  them 
appear  unattractive.  "  Tardi  ingenii  est  rivulos 
consectari,fontes  rerum  non  videre.** 

The  language  of  HoUand,  the  purest  of  all 
the  Gothic  dialects,  almost  exclusively  confined 
to  those  whose  pursuits  are  in  the  main  most  un- 
friendly to  literature — for  the  absorbing  thirst  of 
wealth  soon  destroys  every  other  ambition — has 
been  made  the  subject  of  scorn  and  contempt, 
not  by  those  who  know  it,  but  by  those  to  whom 
it  is  wholly  imknown — 

"  Homine  imperito  nunquam  quidquam  injustius :" 

and  wisdom,  at  one  entrance,  has  been  "  quite 
shut  out"  by  the  influence  of  a  ridicule  first 
awakened  by  presumption,  and  aflerwards  re- 
peated by  bold  and  credulous  ignorance.  A  work 
of  some  hterary  pretensions  has  been  found  to 
pour  out  its  vial  of  contumely  on  the  "  long-suf- 
fering translator"  who  shall  enter  upon  that  work 
which  has  occupied  our  thoughts  and  our  cares; 
while,  with  a  scornful  and  pedantic  sneer,  the 
critic — the  British  critic' — adds:    "  We  once 

'  British  Critic  for  April  1821,  p.  444. 


6  POETICAL  LITERATURE 

saw  a  volume  of  Dutch  poetry  on  the  shelves  of 
an  emeritus  Dutch  skipper;  and  it  was  a  transla- 
tion of  II  Pastor  Fido — jSpxsxsxsf,  xoa^,  xo«^." 
With  a  disposition  and  an  ability  to  add  some- 
thing, however  small,  to  the  stock  of  knowledge, 
the  mind  is  chilled  and  paralysed  by  the  certainty 
that  the  pride  of  animadversion  can  only  be  sa- 
tisfied by  sacrificing  the  timid  adventurer.  The 
criticism  that  instructs,  even  though  it  instruct 
severely,  is  most  salutary  and  most  valuable.  It 
is  of  the  criticism  that  insults,  and  while  it  insults 
informs  not,  that  we  have  a  right  to  complain. 

The  belief  then,  that  a  work  which  shall  trace 
the  origin  and  progress  of  Dutch  Poetical  Lite- 
rature will  find  acceptance  in  England,  has  led 
to  the  present  publication.  The  affinity  between 
the  Dutch  or  Flemish  language  and  our  own ' 

'  Take  as  a  specimen  the  old  Dutch  proverb— 
Wiivixi  D$  totin  iict  in  oen  man 
3|{i  ot  \x>;0tieti)  in,  ne  &an. 

In  English  (if  it  be  necessary  to  translate  it)— 

When  the  wine  is  in  the  man 
Is  the  wisdom  in  the  can. 

Many  words  that  have  now  become  obsolete  may  likewise  be 
adduced:  viz.— JBoAen, bacon ;  egge, edge;  cmw, knife;  moulde, 
mould,  &c.  &c. 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS. 


must,  we  imagine,  be  an  additional  cause  of 
sympathy.  Some  interest  will  be  felt  in  noting 
the  agreement  and  following  the  divergency 
of  idioms  originating  in  a  common  source,  and 
moulded  by  circumstances  into  a  different  form 
and  character: — more  just  and  more  definite 
ideas  will  necessarily  be  the  reward  of  inquiring 
curiosity.  The  Dutch  is  one  of  the  interesting 
branches  growing  from  the  great  Teutonic  stock, 
and  preserving  far  more  of  the  original  character 
than  the  rest  of  the  same  family.  It  is  less  known 
too,  and  has  in  consequence  been  less  acted  on 
by  foreign  criticism.  Modern  times  have  re- 
stored it  to  its  pristine  vigour ;  and  the  patriotic 
spirit  which  resisted  the  encroachments  of  the 
Gallic  tongue,  has  allied  itself  to  the  re-awak- 
ened love  and  cultivation  of  literature  which  has 
thrown  its  lustre  over  modern  times.  The  ser- 
vices of  SiEGENBEEK,  BiLDERDijK,  and  Other 
restorers  of  their  native  language,  can  scarcely 
be  appreciated  by  a  stranger.  But  the  character 
of  the  Dutch  tongue  has  been  hitherto  strangely 
misunderstood.  It  is  not  soft  and  musical — but 
it  is  sonorous  and  emphatic :  it  has  not  the  beau- 
ties of  the  voweled  idioms  of  the  South — but  it 


8f  POETICAL  LITERATURE 

has  beauties  they  can  never  possess ;  and  especi- 
ally in  the  variety  and  grace  of  its  diminutives 
(a  quality  in  which  our  own  language  is  singu- 
larly deficient),  it  may  be  compared  with  the 
richest  among  them^  Languages  have  their 
distinguishing  attributes;  and  the  characteristics 
of  one  are  often  whoUy  incompatible  with  the 
peculiarities  of  another.  Similar  sounds  cannot, 
in  fact,  express  hatred  and  attachment — rage  and 
tranquillity — -jealousy  and  confiding  affection. 
The  lover  does  not  serenade  his  mistress  with  a 
trumpet,  nor  can  an  army  be  led  to  battle 

"  To  the  lascivious  pleasing  of  a  lute." 

For  the  expression  of  vehement,  disturbed  and 
distracting  passion,  the  Spanish  language,  for 
example,  is  wholly  unqualified ;  yet  it  is  admi- 
rably adapted  to  give  utterance  to  solemn  and 
supported  dignity.  The  Dutch  is  distinguished 
by  its  strength.  It  is  not  a  graceless  combina^ 
tion  of  harsh  and  discordant  sounds — the  dull, 

'  The  French  language  has  been  deprived  of  much  of  its 
pristine  beauty  by  the  loss  of  its  diminutives,  such  as  enfanielet, 
teiliet,  bracelet,  which  so  frequently  occur  in  the  old  Gallic  Poets 
down  to  the  16th  century. 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS.  9 

monotonous  and  clashing  cymbal  of  languages : 
it  rather  resembles  a  well-regulated  overture,  in 
which  the  louder  instruments  take  a  principal 
share,  yet  their  part  is  appropriate  and  sustained. 
The  orthography  adopted  by  the  Dutch  is  not 
very  attractive  to  the  eye;  yet  the  following  spe- 
cimens, if  read  by  any  one  who  is  master  of  the 
language,  will,  we  are  assured,  be  deemed  ad- 
mirable proofs  of  sympathy  between  soimd  and 
sense.  The  first  is  Helmer's  description  of 
Pytlion,  in  his  poem  of  Apollo : 

"  Een  schubbig  vel  bedekt  zijn'  rug,  een  hoom  is  't  wapen 
Van  zijn  afgrijslijk  hoofd ;  hy  slaakt  een  naar  gehuil, 
Het  gansche  land  verstomt  bij  zijn  afschuwUjk  brullen : 
Zijn  klaauw  doorwroet  den  grond,  gedrogtlijk  wringt  zijn 

staart 
Zich,  als  een  ratelslang,  in  vreesselijke  krullen, 
En  stalen  rinnen  zijn  om  't  koopren  lijf  geschaard. 
Neen !  de  Acheron  zag  nooit  een  monster  zoo  afschuwlijk ! 
De  vrucht  sterft  in  het  zaad  door  d'adem  van  't  gedrogt. 
De  Razemijen  met  heur  toortsen  zijn  min  gruwUjk, 
Dan  't  monster  daar  bet  loert  van  uit  zijn  zwarte  krocbt." 

A  scaly  skin  his  back  adorned,  a  horn  the  weapon 
Of  his  tremendous  head ;  he  raised  a  dreadful  hovtr], 
And  struck  the  whole  land  dumb  with  tlie  terrific  thunder : 
Hb  claws  tore  up  the  ground,  he  dragged  his  hideous  train 
B  5 


'10  POETICAL  LITERATURE 

Even  like  a  rattle-snake  in  frightful  twists  coil'd  under, 
And  fins  of  steel  were  bristled  round  his  trunk :  the  reign 
Of  Acheron  never  saw  a  monster  so  prodigious. 
The  fruit  died  in  the  seed  whene'er  his  breath  was  nigh ; 
The  hated  furies,  with  their  torches,  are  less  hideous 
Than  that  foul  monster  when  his  prey  was  in  his  eye. 

So  Vondel's  lines  to  Salmasius,  the  calumnia- 
tor of  Hugo  Grotius : 

"  O  Farizeeusche  grijns,  met  schijngeloof  vemist, 
Die  't  groote  lijk  vervolght  ook  in  zijn  tweede  kist; 
Gij  Helhont,  past  het  u  dien  Herkles  na  te  bassen, 
Te  steuren  op  't  autaer  den  Fenix  in  zijn  assen, 
Den  mont  van't  HoUantsch  Recht,  bij  Themis  zelf  beweent? 
Zoo  knaegh  uw  tanden  stomp  aen  't  heilige  gebeent." 

O  Pharisaic  sneer,  with  seeming  praise  o'erspread, 
Following  his  noble  form  when  crumbling  midst  the  dead ; 
Thou  hell-hound !  dar'st  thou  bark  at  Hercules— nor  falter 
Altho'  the  Phoenix  lies  in  ashes  on  the  altar, 
The  mouth  of  Holland's  law,  whom  Themis'  self  bemoans  ? 
Then  wear  thy  teeth  away  upon  his  hallow'd  bones. 

Nor  till  the  following  verses  are  deemed  unmu- 
sical shall  we  be  disposed  to  allow  that  the  Dutch 
is  wholly  wanting  in  melody  and  sweetness : 

«'  Klaare,  wat  heeft  'er  uw  hartjen  verlept, 
Dat  het  verdrietjes  in  vroolijkheidt  schept. 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS.  }} 

£n  t'aller  djdt  even  beneepen,  verdort, 

Gelijk  als  een  bloempjen,  dat  dauwetjen  schorl  ? 

Krielt  het  van  vrijers  niet  om  uwe  deur  ? 
Moogh  je  niet  gaan  niet  te  kust*  en  te  keur? 
En  doe  je  niet  branden,  en  blaaken,  en  braen, 
Al,  waar't  u  op  lust  een  lonkjen  te  slaan  ? 

Anders  en  speelt  'er  het  windetje  niet. 
Op  elzetakken,  en  leuterigh  riet, 
Als :  lustighjes,  lustighjes.     Lustighjes,  gaat 
Het  watertje,  daar  't  tegen  't  vralle^e  slaat. 

Ziet  d'openhartige  bloemetjes  staan, 
Die  u,  tot  alle  blijgeestigheidt,  raen. 
Zelf  't  zonnetje  wenscht'  u  wel  beter  te  moe ; 
£n  werpt  u  een  lieiTelijk  oogelijn  toe. 

Maar  zoo  ze  kunnen,  door  al  hun  vermaan, 
Niet  steeken  met  vreughd  uw  zinnetjes  aan, 
Ik  leg  u  te  maaken  aan  't  schreijen  de  bron, 
De  boomen,  de  bloemen,  de  zuivere  zon." 

HOOFT. 


Clara !  come  tell  me  what  withers  thy  heart. 

That  even  enjoyments  but  sorrow  impart. 

And  say  why  it  thus  like  a  fiow'ret  decays 

To  which  mom  lends  no  dews  and  bright  noontide  no  rays? 

Come  not  fond  lovers  adoring  thee  still  ? 

Dost  thou  not  wander  or  rest  at  thy  will  ? 

And  do  not  thy  glances,  wherever  they  fall. 

With  mildness  delight  and  with  splendour  enthrall ! 


18  POETICAL  LITERATURE 

Zephyr  breathes  pleasantly  over  the  meads. 
Playing  thro'  alders  and  talking  to  reeds, 
All  merrily,  merrily.     Merrily  goes 
The  wavelet  that  on  to  its  siumner  bank  flows. 

See !  yon  sweet  blossoms,  now  opening  gay. 
Bid  thee  be  cheerful  and  smiling  as  they ; 
The  sun,  too,  invites  thy  young  heart  to  be  free. 
And  casts  down  his  loveliest  glance  upon  thee. 

But,  oh !  if  in  vain  they  would  chase  for  a  while 

Thy  griefs,  and  awaken  joy's  slumbering  smile. 

Command  the  gay  sun  and  the  waters  to  join, 

And  the  trees  and  the  flow'rets,  tlieir  bright  tears  to  thine. 


Lachjes,  lonkjes,  toverlusjes, 
Kneepjes,  wenkjes,  zachte  kusjes ; 
Kusjes  geurig  a}s  muskaat, 
Zoet  als  versche  honigraat;"  &c. 

Herm.  van  den  Burg. 

Laughs  and  glances,  charming  blisses. 
Pressings,  nods,  and  gentle  kisses ; 
Kisses  sweet  as  honey  dew. 
Fragrant  as  the  nutmeg  too,  &c. 


Moe  gewandelt,  moe  geseeten, 
Moe  gedronken,  moe  gegeeten, 
Moe  te  gast  gaen  alle  daegh, 
Bij  de  vrienden  in  den  Haegh, 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS.  13 

Raeckt'  ik  weder  op  mijn  Huisje 
In  mijn  Ockenburger  Kluisje, 
Daar  ik  nu  voor  tijdverdrijf 
Dese  rijmpjes  aen  u  schrijf." 

Jacob  WssTEiiBAzy. 

Tir'd  with  wandering,  tir'd  with  sitting, 
Tir'd  of  drinking,  tir'd  of  eating, 
Tir'd  of  every  busy  plague, 
Feasting— visiting  the  Hague,— 
Here  again  I've  found  a  dwelling, 
My  poor  Ockenburger  cell  in. 
Where  I  now,  to  pass  the  time. 
Write  you  this  my  simple  rhyme. 


The  Dutch  is,  as  we  have  said,  one  of  the 
purest  and  least  understood  descendants  of  the 
Gothic  root.  It  niay  be  studied  in  its  perfection 
in  that  beautiful  and  emphatic  version  of  the 
Bible,  which  owes  its  existence  to  the  Synod  of 
1618 — 19.  To  the  expression  of  devout  and 
dignified  emotion  it  is  peculiarly  adapted. 

This  language,  concentrated  within  the  nar- 
row circle  of  the  Northern  Netherlands,  was  for 
many  centuries  the  representative  of  Christian 
feeling;  but  remained  unknown  and  unobserved 
in  other  parts  of  Europe :  for  whUe  Europe  re- 


14  POETICAL  LITERATURE 

ceived  with  welcoming  gratitude  that  torrent  of 
ancient  erudition  conveyed  in  the  purest  latinity 
which  poured  from  the  academies  and  schools, 
the  native  streams  that  refreshed  and  invigorated 
Holland  itself  were  wholly  disregarded. 

It  has  been  usual  to  assert  the  superiority  of 
languages  in  which  polysyllabic  very  much  pre- 
ponderate over  monosyllabic  words.  The  for- 
mer have,  undoubtedly,  the  advantage  in  ex- 
pressing the  more  tender  emotions ;  but  they  are 
immeasurably  below  the  latter  in  force  and  energy 
and  passion. 

The  essential  character  of  the  Poetry  of  Hol- 
land— that  which  marks  it  in  every  age  and  in 
all  its  varieties — is  a  high  tone  of  religious  feel- 
ing, a  sublimity  borrowed  from  devout  associa- 
tions, and  especially  from  the  sacred  writings. 

VoNDEL  gave  a  permanent  influence  to  this 
Christian  spirit;  and  though  a  decided  and  deep 
tinge  of  Catholicism  is  spread  over  his  works,  yet 
he  every  where  inculcates,  and  every  where  dis- 
plays, an  eloquent  and  reverential  sense  of  the 
presence  and  the  providence  of  the  Divinity. 
Cats  is  not  less  the  poet  of  religion :  and  even 
through  the  18th  century,  at  which  period  the 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS.  15 

poetical  literature  of  Holland  seems  most  to 
have  declined,  a  serious  and  sober  and  pious 
spirit  marks  every  writer  to  whom  any  portion 
of  power  or  of  praise  belongs.  That  spirit  is 
obvious  in  the  writings  of  those  of  the  present 
day  who  have  re-awakened  the  energies  of 
their  distinguished  precursors.  The  intellec- 
tual powers,  the  varied  erudition  of  Bilder- 
DiJK,  are  not  more  remarkable  than  the  purity 
of  his  life  and  the  warmth  of  his  benevolent  affec- 
tions ;  and  many  who,  like  Da  Costa  and  De 
CLERCg,  are  proud  to  call  him  their  master, 
breathe  the  same  spirit  of  habitual  devotion. 

Though  the  origin  of  all  languages  is  in  some 
measure  lost  in  obscurity,  yet  the  history  of  that 
of  the  Netherlands  may  be  traced  to  the  thir- 
teenth century  at  least,  about  the  middle  of 
which  the  public  decrees  and  the  civil  acts  were 
first  written  in  the  language  of  the  country ' ;  but 


'  It  was  then  generally  called  the  Flemish  language ;  partly 
because  the  Flemish  provinces  were  at  that  time  predominant, 
from  their  great  prosperity ;  and  partly,  that  the  old  Flemish 
writers  paid  more  attention  to  the  genders,  and  observed  a 
greater  purity  of  diction.  The  Brabant  most  resembled  the 
Flemish  idiom.     The  Batavian  or  Dutch  was,  on  the  contrary, 


16  POETICAL  LITERATURE 

according  to  Emmius,  De  Agro  Frisice,  p.  265 
— 268,  it  was  not  brought  into  general  use  until 
the  year  1298.  The  most  ancient  public  docu- 
ment extant  is  an  ordinance  issued  by  King 
William,  Earl  of  Holland  and  Zealand,  to  the 
citizens  of  Walcheren,  on  the  eleventh  day  of 
March  1254'>'  Huydecoper  refers  to  a  writ- 
ing which  he  supposes  to  have  been  executed  in 
1190:  but  Van  Lelyveld  considers  it  to  be  of 
more  modern  date.  Several  other  manuscripts 
have  excited  much  attention;  although  we  believe 

more  forcible  and  grave.  This  distinction  continued  until  the 
end  of  the  IJth  century;  they  then  lost  their  distinguishing 
characteristics,  and  became  alike  impure  and  weak.  They  re- 
mained in  this  fallen  state  until  after  the  Spanish  disturbances, 
when  the  Dutch  language  so  far  surpassed  the  Flemish,  both 
in  purity  and  force,  that  the  latter  became  entirely  superseded, 
and  never  recovered  its  former  influence  and  importance. 
The  progress  of  commerce  in  tlie  Low  Countries  began  at 
this  period  to  produce  its  influence  on  the  Dutch  tongue. 
Commerce  is  one  of  the  nurses  of  language  in  its  infancy ;  and, 
in  proportion  as  it  is  itself  raised  or  depressed,  raises  or  de- 
presses the  spirit  of  independence  and  research,  on  which  the 
greatness  of  a  nation  and  the  purity  of  its  language  so  evidently 
depend. 

'  Historia  Crilica  Comitatus  HoUanduB  et  Zeelandue.—tova. 
ii.  par.  ii.  p.  654—6. 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS.  17 

that  the  attempt  to  trace  their  origin  to  an  earlier 
period  has  been  unsuccessful,  with  the  exception, 
perhaps,  of  one,  bearing  the  title  "  Een  Epistel 
tot  den  XI  dusent  magheden  CHRISTlf"  which 
Ijpeij  supposes  to  have  been  written  in  1183. 
Before  this  period  a  monkish  Latin  was  the  only 
tongue  cultivated  for  the  purposes  of  literature. 
In  Holland,  as  in  all  other  parts  of  Europe,  the 
vernacular  dialects  were  too  much  despised  to 
be  made  the  medium  of  communication  between 
men  of  letters.  They  were,  indeed,  generally  too 
confined  in  their  extent  to  be  advantageously  or 
conveniently  employed.  Some  advantages  no 
doubt  resulted  from  the  almost  universal  use  of 
the  Latin  language' — corrupt  and  disjointed  as 
it  had  become — ^for  it  was  the  commonly-under- 
stood means  of  intercourse  between  the  learned 
of  all  European  nations;  and,  as  nothing  con- 
nected with  literature  had  obtained  currency  in 

'  The  Dutch  have  been  always  celebrated,  and  they  still  de- 
sore  to  be  celebrated,  for  the  pure  ladnity  of  many  of  their 
writers ;  and  in  our  own  times  Meerman,  Cras,  Van  Lennep, 
and  others,  may  be  quoted  as  the  legitimate  heirs  of  classical 
fame. 


18  POETICAL  LITERATURE 

any  other  dress,  those  few  countries  in  our  quar- 
ter of  the  globe  where  that  language  had  not  pe- 
netrated, remained  shrouded  beneath  the  mantle 
of  darkness  or  of  barbarism.  Whatever  may  exist 
of  the  ancient  poetry  of  such  nations — ^however 
sublime  or  touching  its  conceptions — ^however 
energetic,  however  harmonious,  its  expressions — 
is  no  proof  of  any  thing  like  an  advanced  state 
of  civilization.  If  "  song  is  but  the  eloquence 
of  truth,"  its  beauty  and  its  perfection  are  inde- 
pendent of  the  mental  culture  of  the  poet;  for  the 
truths  it  celebrates  are  the  inspirations  of  na- 
ture, not  the  developments  of  art.  The  bards 
of  other  days  might  possibly  have  sung  "  more 
cunningly"  in  more  enlightened  ages,  but  not 
more  sweetly  or  more  touchingly :  and  perhaps 
many  a  harp,  whose  melodious  vibration^  have 
been  echoed  and  re-echoed  by  the  voices  of  suc- 
cessive centuries,  would  have  been  hung  on  the 
willows,  and  have  remained  silent,  had  civiliza- 
tion, with  its  hundred  allurements,  been  allowed 
to  distract  or  to  divide  the  attention  and  the  ge- 
nius of  its  master.  Little  natural  poetry  can  exist 
in  a  country  which  employs  a  language  not  its 


OF  THE  NETHERLANDS.  19 

own  for  the  purposes  of  literature.  Strong  ideas 
and  intense  feelings  may  be  communicated  in  a 
foreign  tongue,  but 


Thoughts  that  voluntary  move 


Harmonious  numbers," 

which  is,  in  truth,  the  most  simple  and  the 
most  beautiful  definition  of  poetry,  can  only  be 
conveyed  by  the  language  in  which  we  think. 
Biscay,  for  instance,  whose  inhabitants  have  for 
ages  employed  the  Castilian  instead  of  their  own 
tongue,  for  the  written  communication  of  their 
thoughts,  has  as  yet  produced  no  poet';  and  over 
the  whole  surface  of  the  middle  ages  we  find 
scarcely  one  illustrious  poetical  name— of  which 
the  cause  referred  to  was  probably  the  mainly- 
influencing  one. 

We  wish  to  premise  here,  that  we  are  not  the 
critics  but  the  historians  of  Dutch  poetry,  which 
constitutes  in  fact  the  earliest  literature  of  the 
Netherlands.    We  do  not  always  quote  because 

'  And  so  they  are  attacked  by  an  old  Romancero : 

De  entendimento  corto 
Biscayno  en  los  conceptos. 


20  POETRY  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

we  admire,  but  because  we  wish  to  describe. 
Such  was  the  birth,  we  say,  and  such  the  growth, 
of  the  Muse  of  Holland.  It  would  be  easy  to 
judge  harshly,  but  we  deem  it  better  to  represent 
silently. 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH 
CENTURIES. 


JACOB  VAN  MAERLANT 


LAMBERTUS  GOETMANN. 


^'\ 


JACOB  VAN  MAERLANT 

TO 

LAMBERTUS  GOETMANN. 


SlacoB  tan  ^aetTattt  Die  OiaOet 
C0  net  Vitm'^tc  Dic^textn  algaoet. 


J  ACOB  Van  Maeblant,  bora  at  Damme '  in  Flanders 
A  D.  1235,  is  honoured  with  the  title  of  Father  of  the 
Poets  of  the  Netherlands.  He  was  distinguished  as  a 
philosopher  and  as  an  orator,  and  appears  to  have 
held  the  office  of  public  Secretary  to  his  native  place. 
What  particularly  entitles  him  to  distinction  is  his 
having  been  a  layman — a  layman  renowned  for  his 
taste  and  learning  even  in  his  own  day,  when  reading 
was  almost  wholly  confined  to  the  clergy.  He  trans- 
lated into  Dutch  rhyme   the  Historia  Scholastica  of 


'  Van  Wyn  supposes  he  was  bom  at  Maerlant,  a  small  place 
in  Holland. 


24  VAN  MAERLANT.  [1200- 

Peter  Comestor  ' :  Flowers  of  Nature  (Der  Natuere 
BloemeJ  from  Albert's*  Liber  Rerum:  Bonaven- 
tura's  Life  of  Francis :  Beauties  of  Aristotle,  of  which 
he  quaintly  says, 

iCt!  uttn  %atint  in  ©ietjSctie  firotfet 
Cite  Kti^totUe^  inthtnJ 

His  most  appreciated  productions  are  Wapen  Mar- 
tijn,  Verkeerde  Martijn,  and  his  Historic  Mirror 
(Spiegel  Historiael),  two  parts  of  which  were  pub- 
lished by  Clignett  and  Steenwinkel.  It  is  an  imita- 
tion of  the  Speculum  Historiale  of  Vincentius  Bel- 
LOVACENSis,  and  is  rather  flowing  and  agreeable.  He 
introduces  many  excellent  thoughts  from  the  ancients, 
especially  from  Seneca,  as  for  example : 

©atjf  J©itJe  6cen  en  .ilBanne  berre 
l^u  Mibe  te  ioejJen  eti  nu  trre: 
tSEIant  aHe  Bine  ^pn  onflej^tabe, 
^ieromme  e^  Jbi  tiroet  te  raise, 


>  A  learned  Frenchman  of  the  12th  century,  who,  from  his 
scriptural  argumentative  powers,  was  reported  to  have  eaten  up 
the  Bible. 
»  Of  Cologne. 

*  All  these  beauties  haue  we  soughte, 
And  out  of  Latin  to  Dutche  broughtei 
yrom  the  bookes  of  Aristotle. 


-1400.]  VAN  MAERLANT.  25 

©ie  be  werelt  toerren  Uet, 

4?n  emmet  blitet  in  enen  $taet. ' 

We  quote  his  apology,  so  illustrative  both  of  the 
poet  and  of  the  language  of  that  early  period,  for  the 
frequent  recurrence  of  Flemish  words  in  his  verses. 

<Cntir,  ombat  ic  Cllamirtc  iien, 

Met  ooebcr  tevte  iiibbic  ien, 

©le  bit  ©ict0cl)e  ?unen  Icsen, 

©at  0i  mifns  oenabicb  ttiei^en ; 

<(2nbe  Ueen  isire  in  ^oniic()  tooort, 

©at  in  iet  lanb  e^  onseboort, 

Men  moet  om  be  rime  liouften 

JiKi^^cIihe  tonsbe  in  fiouhen.  * 

Melis  Stoke  lived  towards  the  end  of  the  13th 
century.     His   Poetic  Chronicle   (Rijmchronijk)  was 

'  When  joye  to  sudden  griefe  giues  place, 
'Tis  woman's  weaknesse — man's  disgrace: 
For  earthlie  thinges  are  euer  changing. 
Thus  he  is  wise,  whose  harte  unranging 
Lets  tlie  worlde  roule  as  it  wille, 
And  is  unmoued  and  stedfaste  stille. 

*  Imitated  in  the  style  of  Chaucer  by  a  friend  : 

For  I  am  Flemysh,  I  yow  beseche 
Of  youre  curtesye,  al  and  eche, 
That  shal  thys  Doche  chaunce  peruse, 
Unto  me  nat  youre  grace  refuse ; 
And  yf  ye  fynden  any  worde 
In  youre  countrey  that  ys  unherde, 
Thynketh  that  clerkys  for  her  ryme 
Taken  a  faultie  worde  somtymc. 


26  JAN  VAN  HELU.  [1200- 

publishedin  159 1^  and  again  in  1772,  with  introduc- 
tory and  explanatory  observations.  His  Address  to 
William  the  Third  contains  some  good  lines. 

Jan  van  Helu,  Thomas  of  Ghesaert_,  and  Heijn- 
Kic  VAN  Holland,  are  the  only  other  Poets  of  the  13th 
century  entitled  to  mention,  and  they  none  of  them 
improved  on  the  poetry  of  Maerlant.  Of  the  first 
of  these  the  following  lines  are  worth  preserving : 

J©ant,  0el[pc  tat  tie  42uer3tt>5n, 
©aer  ^i  moclie  oejaget  jpn, 
Oerieitien  j^pieten  entie  jStoeert, 
Wi^tit  bronoen  0i,  anmvuttvt, 
3Ie0{)en  l>ie  "iJBrafiantre  toeber, 
2)at  ^i  tJoen  ben  ^evta^fst  neber 
(^Tttjee  or^en  onber  tern  ^taften .' 

These  extracts  are  rather  to  be  considered  as  curio- 
sities than  as  subjects  for  critical  severity.  Van  Maek- 
lant's  are  the  first  developments'^  of  the  germ  of  na- 

'  As  the  furious  boare,  pursued 
By  the  daring  hunter  rude, 
Teares  the  earth,  and,  raging  loudlie, 
Rushes  on  the  hunter  proudlie, 
So  the  fierce  Brabanter  then 
Driues  the  Hertoch  back  agen, 
Under  him  two  horses  stagger. 

'  He  makes  mention  of  Willem  Utenhoven,  Calfstaf,  Noij- 


-1400.]  CHAMBERS  OF  RHETORIC.  27 

tional  poetry,  and,  however  defective  in  imageiy  and 
rugged  in  rhyme,  entitle  their  author  to  our  attention, 
as  they  have  obtained  for  him  the  gratitude  of  his 
countrymen.  He  aspired  to  knowledge,  to  its  attain- 
ment and  to  its  communication,  when  it  was  an  almost 
forbidden  possession.  The  stream  of  literature  has 
rolled  on,  gathering  in  its  progress  a  thousand  con- 
tributing rivulets :  let  not  the  humble  and  remote 
spring  be  forgotten,  whence  it  originally  flowed. 

It  is  a  singular  fact,  that  the  means  which  were  em- 
ployed in  the  14th  century  for  the  advancement  of  the 
language  and  its  literature,  became  in  the  highest  de- 
gree instrumental  to  its  degradation.  We  allude  to 
the  foundation  of  the  Chambers  of  Rhetoric,  which 
took  place  towards  the  end  of  this  era.  The  degene- 
racy of  the  language  may  mainly  be  attributed  to  the 
wandering  orators  {sprekers),  who,  being  called  to  the 
courts  of  princes,  or  admitted  though  uninvited,  re- 
hearsed, for  money,  the  miserable  doggrel  produced  by 
themselves  or  others.  These  people  afterwards  formed 
themselves,  in  Flanders  and  Brabant,  into  literary  so- 
cieties, which  were  known  by  the  name  of  Chambers  of 
Rhetoricians  {Kamersder  Rhetorijkers  or  Rederijkers), 
and  which  offered  prizes  to  the  most  meritorious  poets. 

dekijn,  and  Clais  van  Brechten  j  but  none  of  tlieir  writings  have 
come  down  to  us. 

c2 


28  CHAMBERS  OF  RHETORIC.  [1200- 

The  first  Chambers  appear  to  have  been  founded  at 
Dixmuiden  and  Antwerp:  at  the  former  place  in  1394, 
and  at  the  latter  in  1400.  These  societies  were  formed 
in  imitation  of  the  French,  who  began  to  institute  them 
about  the  middle  of  the  1 4th  century,  under  the  name 
of  Colleges  de  Rhetorique.  The  example  of  Flanders 
was  speedily  followed  by  Zealand  and  Holland.  In 
1430  there  was  a  Chamber  at  Middelburg ;  in  1433, 
at  Vlaardingen ;  in  1434,  at  Nieuwkerk ;  and  in  1437, 
at  Gouda.  Even  insignificant  Dutch  villages  had  their 
Chambers,  Among  others,  one  was  founded  in  the 
Lier  in  the  year  1480.  In  the  remaining  provinces 
they  met  with  less  encouragement.  They  existed, 
however,  at  Utrecht,  Amersfoort,  Leeuwaarden,  and 
Hasselt.  The  purity  of  the  language  was  completely 
undermined  by  the  rhyming  self-called  Rhetoricians, 
and  their  abandoned  courses  brought  Poetry  itself  into 
disrepute.  All  distinction  of  genders  was  nearly 
abandoned ;  the  original  abundance  of  words  ran 
waste  J  and  that  which  was  left,  became  completely 
overwhelmed  by  a  torrent  of  barbarous  terms. 

This  century,  therefore,  introduced  no  improvement 
on  the  age  that  preceded  it.  Versification  was  almost 
exclusively  appropriated  to  purposes  wholly  unworthy 
of  it — to  the  dry  details  of  chronicled  and  other  unin- 
teresting events.  At  this  period,  however,  the  inroads 
of  the  Flemings  produced  a  considerable  change  in 


-14-00.]  LODEWIJK  VAN  VELTHEM.  29 

the  language.  The  violent  party  spirit  and  civil  dis- 
sensions of  this  epoch  had  vent  in  something  fiercer 
than  the  vehemence  of  poetry  :  besides  that  the  poetry 
excited  by  temporary  circumstances,  if  to  such  it  were 
applied,  was  scarcely  likely  to  live  after  the  events 
which  had  g^ven  it  a  passing  interest.  Many  Latin 
words  were  introduced  about  this  time,  and  their  effect 
is  singularly  abrupt  and  unpleasing. 

Deu0 !  ^ot  taX  ic  {)oIpti«ien  mogen, 

is  a  line  of  Lodewijk  Van  Velthem,  a  Brabant  priest. 
An  anonymoas  poet  of  this  century  has,  notwithstand- 
ing, some  merit.  Take  as  an  example  a  verse  from  the 
Dietsche  Doctrinal  : 

II0eet,  Oat  Cloen'teren  fn  ^tebe 

J^iet  en  connen  fleuen  feeiIic{)Etien, 

Met  tie  reinicbeit  in 't  ftecte  feeeft, 

J©eet,  bat  tie  feeilicbTihe  keft, 

infant  ^ob  oueraT  ei, 

^0  macf)  men,  beiS  0^t  Qfjeme^, 

43ob  bienen  oueral, 

49p  ^traten,  op  hexaf)e  en  baT. ' 


Know  that  holinesse  keepes  her  throne 
Not  in  cloysters  or  temples  alone. 
The  temple  where  she  loues  to  dwelle 
Is  a  pure  spirit's  secrete  celle. 


so  CLAES  WILLEMS.         [1200- 

Claes  Willems  is  the  only  other  poet  of  this  cen- 
tury who  is  entitled  to  notice ;  but  few  of  his  produc- 
tions deserve  translation. 

Almost  as  barren  is  the  fifteenth  century  as  that 
which  preceded  it.  Till  some  master-genius  breaks 
through  the  trammels  which  minds  of  the  common 
mould  consent  to  wear,  because  they  have  long  worn 
them,  there  is  little  to  encourage  inquiries,  or  to 
give  excitement  to  attention.  William  the  Sixth  de- 
spised the  country  over  which  he  reigned  :  but  Poets 
found  protectors,  though  poetry  seems  to  have  been 
little  benefited  by  them,  under  Charles  the  Bold  and 
Philip  the  Handsome  :  and  the  Kaniers  der  Rederijken 
did  something  to  interest,  though  not  to  improve,  the 
taste  of  the  age. 

Jan  or  Willem  de  Weert  van  Ypren  wrote  a 
work  at  the  commencement  of  this  century,  entitled 
The  New  Doctrinal,  or  Mirror  of  Sins,  copied  princi- 
pally from  the  Latin,  and  possessing  as  few  claims  to 
poetical  merit  as  to  originality. 

Jacop  Vilt,  a  goldsmith  at  Bruges  in  Flanders, 
translated  Boethius ;  but  his  work  does  not  deserve 
particular  mention, 

God  is  aboue  us  euerie  where : 
This  be  our  counsel,  this  our  care, 
To  serve  Him-^stille  with  praises  meete 
On  hillc,  or  vallife,  or  crowded  streete. 


-1400.]  POETRY  OF  ROMANCE.  31 

About  this  time  another  translation  of  Boethius ',  by 
an  anonymous  writer,  appeared.  The  following  lines 
afford  a  favourable  specimen  of  his  versification  : 

K\  itihtn  at  6c?e  (dieren)  liibcr?t]t)cn  aerU 
;$»]?  sitn  nocl)tan  al  nctiertnaert 
De  meinicie  aTTcen  ficift  tfeooft  gliere.tfcn 
Onuicict  fiol  'bem  be  aertie  tae^en.^ 


It  would  be  unwarrantable  to  pass  over  this  epoch 
without  some  reference  to  that  romantic  yet  simple 
poetry  which  exists  in  such  a  variety  of  forms,  and 
has  been  preserved  by  the  tenacity  of  undying  tradi- 
tion through  all  the  Teutonic  dialects ;  more  especi- 
ally since  an  acquaintance  with  these  first  awakened 

'  Boethius  was  one  of  the  favourite  writers  of  the  middle  ages. 
He  is  often  referred  to  by  the  Troubadours  and  Proven9al  poets, 
and  was  translated  again  and  again  into  most  of  the  languages 
of  Europe.  In  England  there  was  a  translation  by  the  un- 
equalled Alfred ;  another  by  Chaucer ;  and  another,  of  a  later 
date.  Sem  Tob,  a  Hebrew-Spanish  poet  of  the  15th  century, 
ranks  him  with  Homer,  Virgil,  and  Dante,  as  one  of  the  great 
lights  of  former  days. 

*  With  different  natures  brutes  are  founde. 
But  all  looke  downwarde  to  the  grounde : 
Man — ^man  alone  his  heade  upreareth, 
Unworthie  of  him  the  eartlie  appeareth. 

Lib.  T.  metr.  5. 


3i  POETRY  OF  ROMANCE. 

a  spirit  of  literature  in  the  Netherlands.  The  Ama- 
tory Verses  long  current  in  Provence  and  Languedoc, 
and  the  Romances  of  Chivalry  from  the  North,  excited 
attention  and  challenged  emulation.  The  aged  of 
those  days  delighted  to  listen  to  these  tuneful  me- 
morials. Youth  gathered  from  them  incitement  to 
deeds  of  glory  and  of  virtue  ;  and  the  maiden  learnt 
them  by  heart  whilst  conning  her  breviary.  The  uni- 
versality of  some  of  the  fables  of  Romance  is  one  of 
the  most  curious  facts  of  literary  history.  The  Knights 
of  the  Round  Table  have  been  celebrated  in  almost 
every  dialect  of  Europe,  and  even  beyond  its  boun- 
daries. The  Reyntje  de  Vos,  so  well  known  to  the 
people  of  the  middle  age,  was  translated  into  Dutch 
at  a  very  early  period.  The  brothers  Gbimm  have 
given  several  specimens  of  old  Dutch  poetical  ro- 
mance in  their  %iiXiZ\ltU\]lt  ffaiaclliet;  and  perhaps 
the  very  affinity  of  these  fabulous  histories  to  others 
which  have  reached  us  by  different  channels,  will  give 
them  a  keener  relish. 


THE  HUNTER  FROM  GREECE. 

A  HUNTER  went  a-hunting  into  the  forest  wide. 
And  nought  he  found  to  hunt  but  a  man  whose  arms 
were  tied. 


POETRY  OF  ROMANCE.  33 

"'  Hunter,"  quoth  he,  "  a  woman  is  roaming  in  the 

grove. 
And  to  your  joyous  youth-tide  a  deadly  bane  shall 

prove." 
"  What !  should  I  fear  a  woman — who  never  fear'd 

a  man?" 
Then  to  him,  while  yet  speaking,  the  cruel  woman 

ran. 
She  seized  his  arms  and  grasp'd  his  horse's  reins,  and 

hied 
Full  seventy  miles,  ascending  with  him  the  mountain's 

side. 
The  mountains  they  were  lofty,  the  valleys  deep  and 

low, — 
Two  sucklings  dead — one  turning  upon  a  spit  he  saw, 
"  And  am  I  doom'd  to  perish,  as  1  these  perish  see  ? 
Then  may  I  curse  my  fortune  that  I  a  Greek  should 

be." 
"  What !  are  you  then  from  Greece  ?  for  my  husband 

is  a  Greek ; 
And  tell  me  of  your  parents — perchance  I  know  them 

— speak." 
"  But  should  I  name  them,  they  may  to  you  be  all 

unknown : — 
My  father  is  the  monarch  of  Greece,  and  I  his  son  j 
And  Margaret  his  consort — my  mother  too  is  she ; 
You  well  may  know  their  titles,  and  they  my  parents  be." 
c5 


34  POETRY  OF  ROMANCE. 

"  The  monarch  of  the  Grecians — a  comely  man  and 

gay— 
But  should  you  ne'er  grow  taller,  what  boots  your  life, 

I  pray  ?" 
"  Why  should  I  not  grow  taller  ?  I  but  eleven  years 

have  seen  ; 
I  hope  I  shall  grow  taller  than  trees  in  the  forest 

green." 
"  How  hope  you  to  grow  taller  than  trees  in  the  forest 

green  ? — 
I  have  a  maiden-daughter,  a  young  and  graceful  queen. 
And  on  her  head  she  weareth  a  crown  of  pearls  so  fine ; 
But  not  e'en  wooing  monarchs  should  have  that  daugh- 
ter mine. 
Upon  her  breast  she  beareth  a  lily  and  a  sword. 
And  even  hell's  black  tenants  all  tremble  at  her  word." 
"  You  boast  so  of  your  daughter,  I  wish  she'd  cross  my 

way, 
I'd  steal  her  kisses  slily,  and  bid  her  a  good  day." 
"  1  have  a  little  courser  that's  swifter  than  the  wind, 
I'll  lend  it  to  you  slily — go — seek — the  maiden  find." 
Then  bravely  on  the  courser  gallop' d  the  hunter  lad  ; 
"  Farewell !  black  hag,  farewell !  for  your  daughter  is 

too  bad." 
"  O  had  I,  as  this  morning,  you  in  my  clutches  back. 
You  dared  not  then  have  call'd  me — you  dared  not 

call  me  '  black.'  " 


•      POETRY  OF  ROMANCE.  35 

She  struck  the  tree  in  fury  with  a  club-stick  which  she 

took. 
Till  the  trees  in  the  green-wood  trembled,  and  all  the 

green  leaves  shook. 

The  poets  delighted  to  sing  the  disappointments  of 
the  malevolent  purposes  of  those  imps,  or  fiend-like 
spirits,  whose  encounters  with  mortals  so  frequently 
formed  the  subject  of  their  fanciful  creations. 


THE  FETTERED  NIGHTINGALE. 

Now  I  will  speed  to  the  Eastern  land,  for  there  my 

sweet  love  dwells. 
Over  hill  and  ovpr  valley,  far  over  the  heather,  for 

there  my  sweet  love  dwells  : 
And  two  fair  trees  are  standing  at  the  gates  of  my 

sweet  love. 
One  bears  the  fragrant  nutmeg,  and  one  the  fragrant 

clove. 
The  nutmegs  were  so  round,  and  the  cloves  they  smelt 

so  sweet, 
I  thought  a  knight  would  court  me^  and  but  a  mean 

man  meet. 


36  POETRY  OF  ROMANCE. 

The  maiden  by  the  hand,  by  her  snow-white  hand  he 

led. 
And  they  travel'd  far  away  to  where  a  couch  was 

spread ; 
And  there  they  lay  concealed  through  the  loving  live- 
long night. 
From  evening  to  the  morning  till  broke  the  gay  day- 
light j 
And  the  sun  is  gone  to  rest,  and  the  stars  are  shining 

clear, 
I  fain  would  hide  me  now  in  an  orchard  with  my  dear  j 
And  none  should  enter  then  my  orchard's  deep  alcove. 
But  the  proud  nightingale  that  carols  high  above. 
We'll  cliain  the  nightingale — his  head  unto  his  feet. 
And  he  no  more  shall  chatter  of  lovers  when  they  meet. 
I'm  not  less  faithful  now,  although  in  fetters  bound. 
And  still  will  chatter  on  of  two  sweet  lovers'  wound. 


Here  is  all  the  natural  feeling  without  the  exagge- 
ration of  the  best  epoch  of  the  Troubadour  poetry. 


POETRY  OF  ROMANCE.  37 

THE  KNIGHT  AND  HIS  SQUIRE. 

A  Knight  and  his  Esquire  did  stray — Santio  ' 

In  the  narrow  path  and  the  gloomy  way, — Non  weder 

So  quoth  the  Knight — "  Yon  tree  do  thou — Santio 

Climb — bring  the  turtle  from  the  bough." — Non  weder 

"  Sir  Knight,  I  dare  not  3  for  the  tree — Santio 

Is  far  too  light  to  carry  me." — Non  weder 

The  Knight  grew  grave  and  stern :   and  he — Santio 

Mounted  himself  the  waving  tree, — Non  weder 

"  My  master  is  fallen  dead  below — Santio 

Where  are  my  well-earned  wages  now  ?" — Non  weder 

"  Your  well  earned-wages  !  get  you  all — Santio 

Chariots  and  steeds  are  in  the  stall." — Non  weder 

"  Chariots  and  steeds  I  seek  not  after, — Santio 

But  I  will  have  the  youngest  daughter." — Non  weder 

The  Squire  is  now  a  Knight ;  and  still — Santio 

Drives  steeds  and  chariots  at  his  will. — Non  weder 


We  pass  over  Jan  Van  dkn  Dale.     His  writings 
were  popular  in  his  day,  and  obtained  for  him  splendid 

'  The  chorus  of  this  Romance  is — 

Santio 

Non  weder  de  kneder  de  koorde  sante  jante 
Iko,  kantiko  di  kandelaar  sti. 


38  POETRY    OF    ROMANCE. 

marks  of  attention  from  his  countrymen.  Anthonis 
DE  RuEBE  of  Bruges  and  Andries  de  Smit  or  Smet 
are  sufficiently  noticed  by  the  introduction  of  their 
names.  Dirk  van  Munster  wrote  the  Christian 
Mirror,  and.  Lambertus  Goetman  the  Mirror  of 
Youth.  Each  did  something  to  advance  the  progress 
of  literature,  by  improving  on  the  poets  who  had  pre- 
ceded them. 


FIFTEENTH  AND  SIXTEENTH  CENTURIES. 


ANNA  BYNS 


HENDRIK  SPIEGHEL. 


FROM 

ANNA  BYNS 

TO 

HENDRIK  SPIEGHEL. 


X  oETRY,  the  most  interesting  form  in  which  the  sub- 
limer  passions  are  expressed  and  developed,  is  some- 
times a  slowly-working  but  a  most  important  agent 
of  improvement.  It  becomes  often  a  condensation  of 
the  national  will,  and  is  the  rapid  conductor  of  sym- 
pathy from  one  class  of  society  to  another,  from  its 
aptitude  for  communicating  thoughts  and  feelings. 
Those  great  changes,  which  had  become  necessities, 
soon  reckoned  among  their  advocates  the  enlightened 
men  who  marked  the  course  of  the  "  mighty  stream 
of  tendency;"  and  amidst  the  discussions  and  the 
disturbances  of  the  16th  century,  literature  in  Holland 
gathered  new  strength,  and  re-acted  upon  the  public 
mind  with  increasing  activity.  While  the  political 
liberties  of  the  Netherlands  began  to  dawn  again,  and 
religious  inquiry  opened  a  wide  field  of  freedom  and 
of  virtue,  knowledge, — which  is,  in  fact,  but  another 
word  for  truth, — spread  widely  her  benignant  and  en- 
couraging influences.  The  extraordinary  and  impetu- 


4-2         POETRY  OF  THE  16TH  CENTURY.       [1400- 

ous  character  of  Luther  had  shaken  the  tottering  pil- 
lars of  authority  and  usurpation  j  while  Erasmus  ' — 
though  ambiguous  in  his  policy,  and  wavering  in  his 
will — had  opened  the  flood-gates  of  inquiry  by  his 
translation  of  the  Scriptures.  The  atrocious  edicts, 
by  which  the  Emperor  Charles  (in  1529)  doomed  the 
supporters  of  the  Reformation  to  death, — the  men  to 
be  put  to  the  sword — the  women  to  be  buried  alive, — 
gave  new  enthusiasm  to  the  persecuted,  and  reflected 
infinite  disgrace  on  the  persecutors  :  for  persecution 
is  a  suicidal  principle  j  its  lance  soon  turns  towards 
itself.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  presence  of  the  Spa- 
niards, who  were  at  this  period  the  models  of  classic 
writing,  and  whose  works  were  frequently  printed  at 
Antwerp,  the  Hague,  and  other  parts  of  the  Nether- 
lands, should  not  have  produced  a  more  decided  influ- 
ence on  Dutch  literature :  but  the  benefits  the  Spa- 
niards conferred  could  not  but  be  forgotten  in  the 
wrongs  they  inflicted. 

'  The  cordial  friendship  existing  between  Erasmus,  Sir  Tho- 
mas More,  and  Juan  Luis  Vives— men  of  different  nations  and 
language,  and  each  probably  the  most  renowned  of  his  con- 
temporary countrymen— a  friendship  founded  on  intellectual 
superiority,  on  mutual  respect  and  sympathy, — is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  events  of  this  period.  On  a  life  of  either  of  these 
individuals  almost  all  that  is  interesting  in  the  history  and  lite- 
rature of  this  time  might  be  grounded. 


-1600.]  ANNA  BYNS.  48 

The  number  of  reformers  increased  from  day  to  day ; 
and  these  times  of  anarchy  and  bloodshed  produced 
many  gifted  poetical  characters.  Among  these  was 
Anna  Byns.  She  was  inimical  to  the  Reformation, 
and  directed  her  talents  principally  against  its  pro- 
gress. These  lines  will  convey  some  idea  of  her 
powers  : — 

'  See'st  thou  the  sun  and  moon's  transparent  beam. 
The  fair  stars  thickly  sprinkled  o'er  the  sky  ? 
They're  rays,  which  from  the  Eternal's  fountain  stream. 
Then  turn  thy  contemplative  gaze  on  high. 
Praise  the  pure  light,  whence  these  their  light  obtain. 
Whose  heavenly  power  is  in  the  sun-rays  seen. 
It  wakes  from  earth's  dark  tomb  the  buried  grain. 
And  decks  with  flowers  the  hills  and  valleys  green. 
So  that  no  painter  could  convey,  I  ween. 
Such  magic  colouring  and  variety  j — 

'  Siet  ghy  sonne  en  mane  claer  van  ghestichte, 
En  de  sterren  dichte  aen  den  hemel  staen, 
Ten  zyn  maer  straelen  van  den  eeuwigen  lichte : 
Dus  wilt  u  ghesichte  in  't  hoogstc  slaan  : 
Pryst  om't  licht,  daer  deze  haer  licht  af  ontfaen, 
Wiens  godlycke  kracht  schynt  in  der  sonnestraelen. 
Die  alle  groeysel  doct  uyt  er  eerden  gaan, 
Soo  dat  gheen  schilder  en  sou  connen  ghemaelcn 
Soo  schoonen  coleuren,  oft  soo  menigherhande : 


44  JAN  FRUITIERS.  [1400- 

Then,  reasoning  beings,  if  ye  would  not  err. 
Make  nature  nature's  God's  interpreter  j 
Though  nought,  however  fair,  by  land  or  sea 
With  the  Creator's  beauty  can  be  rated. 
Yet  think,  while  gazing  on  their  brilliancy. 
How  wondrous  He,  who  all  those  works  created. 

Jan  Fbuitieks  was  master  of  Requests  to  the  Prince 
of  Holland,  and  a  zealous  reformer.  He  wrote  several 
works  both  in  rhyme  and  prose.  Among  the  former 
was  one  entitled  "  Ecclesiasticus,  or  The  wke  Sayings 
of  Jesus  the  son  of  Syrach. 

Dirk  Coobnhert  was  born  at  Amsterdam  in  the 
year  1522.  In  1562  he  was  secretary  to  the  town  of 
Haarlem,  and  two  years  afterwards  to  the  Burgo- 
masters of  that  place.  In  1572  he  was  private  secre- 
tary to  the  States  of  Holland.  His  general  style  was 
pure,  but  the  subjoined  extract  proves  that  it  was  not 
always  so.  The  thought,  however,  though  not  well  ex- 
pressed, is  too  pleasing  to  be  lost. 

Dus,  redelycke  menschen,  hoort  myn  verhalen, 

Soeck  in  de  creaturen  (wilt  gy  niet  dwalen) 

Den  Schepper  met  uwen  relycken  verstande ; 

Want  siet  gy  yet  schoons  te  water,  te  lande, 

't  Mach  by  de  schoonheyt  des  Scheppers  luttel  drepen  : 

Dus  seght  oft  denckt  uyter  liefsten  brande, 

Och  boe  schoon  moet  by  zyn  die  't  al  beeft  gheschepen ! 


-1600.]  DIRK  COORNHERT.  45 

'  Maiden  !  sweet  maiden  !  when  thou  art  near. 
Though  the  stars  on  the  face  of  the  sky  appear. 
It  is  light  around  as  the  day  can  be. 
But,  maiden  !  sweet  maiden  !  when  thou'rt  away. 
Though  the  sun  be  emitting  his  loveliest  ray. 
All  is  darkness,  and  gloom,  and  night  to  me. 
ITien  of  what  avail  is  the  sun  or  the  shade. 
Since  my  day  and  my  night  by  thee  are  made  ? 

He  greatly  distinguished  himself  by  his  upright  and 
intrepid  conduct ;  and  from  the  verses  written  by  him, 
whilst  persecuted  and  imprisoned,  these  are  perhaps 
worth  quoting : 

*  What  's  the  world's  liberty  to  him  whose  soul  is 

firmly  bound 

With    numberless    and    deadly   sins    that   fetter    it 
f*'>   around  ? 


'  Sleysjen  als  ick  u  mach  wesen  ontrent, 
Al  stonden  de  sterren  aen  het  firmatnent, 
Soo  is,  als  dagh,  den  Hemel  klaer:- 
^laar  als  ick  van  u  moet  sijn  absent, 
Al  scheen  die  son  nog  soo  excellent, 
Soo  is  het  nacht  voor  myn  eenpaer. 
Wat  baet  my  dan  der  sonnen  kracht, 
Als  ghy  my  maecht  dagh  ende  nacht  ? 

*  Wat  baet  hen's  werelts  vryheyt  diens  ziel  is  gebonden 
Met  duysent  aenclevende  dootlycke  sonden  ? 


4-6  ROEMER  VISSCHER.  [1400- 

What  's  the  world's  thraldom  to  the  soul  which  in  itself 
is  free  ? — 

Nought !  with  his  master's  bonds  he  stands  more  pri- 
vileged, more  great. 

Than  many  a  golden -fetter 'd  fool  with  outward  pomp 
elate ; 

For  chains  grace  virtue,  while  they  bring  deep  shame 
on  tyranny. 

Coornhert  did  much  towards  purifying  the  language 
of  his  predecessors. 

Merely  mentioning  Petrus  Dathenus,  Philip 
VAN  Marnix,  Jan  Babtist  Houwaert,  Peeter 
Heyns,  and  Zacharias  Heyns,  son  of  the  latter, 
who  far  surpassed  his  father,  we  come  to  Roemer 
VisscHER,  and  Hendrik  Spikghel,  son  of  Laurens 
Spieghel.  The  former  gained  from  his  countrymen 
the  title  of  Dutch  Martial.  We  give  a  short  speci- 
men : 

'  O  wealth  !  thou  mother  of  evil  fate. 
Wife  of  falsest  treachery, 

Wat  scha'  et  ook  de  rycke  ziel  dees  lichacms  banden  ? 
Niet !  hy  pronckt  met  zyn  meesters  cluysters  eerlyck, 
Meer  dan  menigh  zot  met  ketens  van  gout  begeerlyck, 
Der  vromen  boeyens  eeren  hun  den  vanger  tot  schanden. 

'  O  ryckdom,  moeder  van  alle  quaet, 
Wyf  van  valsche  verradery. 


-1600.]  HENDRIK  SPIEGHEL  47 

Daughter  of  care,  sister  of  hate. 
Nurse  of  all  iniquity  j 
Having  thee,  pale  fears  surround  us. 
And,  without  thee,  sorrows  wound  us. 

Spieghel  was  born  at  Amsterdam  in  1549,  and  had 
the  advantages  of  a  classical  education.  The  follow- 
ing is  one  of  his  descriptions  : 

■  The  cold  and  dreary  night,  clad  in  its  raven-robe. 
With  all  the  stars  retires,  as  morning  wakes  the  globe ; 
Earth's  orbit  is  approach'd,  and  gladden'd  with  the 

sight 
Of  rays,  whose  fertile  warmth  proceeds  from  heaven's 

great  light, 
^^'hich  leaves  the  barren  Ram  with  Taurus  now  to 

reign. 
And  decks  the  northern  zone  with  shady  leaves  again. 

Dochter  van  sorgh,  suster  van  haet, 
Voester  van  alle  schelmerj', 
U  te  hebben  dat  doet  vreesen 
En  niet  te  hebben  droevigh  wesen. 

'  De  kouwe  nare  nacht  met  duistcrheid  omhanghen 
£n  stcrren  wcken  al  des  uchtens  rode  wanghen, 
Ons  aarden  kreis  ghenaakt  het  wenschelyk  gbezicht 
Der  stralen  groeyzaam-beet  des  hemels  groote  licht : 
Dat  liet  d'onvruchtbaar  Ram,  om  in  den  Stier  te  stieren. 
En 't  noorde-gordel  weer  met  lover-schauw  te  cieren. 


48  HENDRIK  SPIEGHEL.  [1400- 

His  style  is  harsh  and  encumbered  with  epithets  5 
but  his  compositions  are  characterized  by  devout  feel- 
ings and  singular  strength.  These  lines  are  a  curious 
specimen  of  affinity  between  Dutch  and  English  : 

Parnassus  is  too  wide  :  here  is  no  Helicon 

But  downs,  wood  and  beck,  one  air,  one  self-same 
sun. 

This  water,  this  land,  beck,  field,  stream,  and  wood- 
goddesses 

With  mightless  love  we  heartily  admire.' 


The  Sixteenth  Century  unquestionably  improved  on 
the  age  that  preceded  it  5  but  that  improvement  was 
the  natural  advance  of  literature  with  civilization  ;  a 
slow  but  a  decided  progress  ;  during  which  no  very 
extraordinary  or  pre-eminent  genius  had  appeared. 


'  Parnassus  is  te  wijd :  hier  is  geen  Helicon 
Maar  duinen,  bosch  en  beek,  een  lucht,  een  zelfde  zon, 
Dit  water,  dit  land,  beek,  fold,  stroom  en  boomgodinnen, 
Met  maghteloose  liefd  wy  hartelijk  beminnen. 

Hartspiegel  i.  1 27 — 130. 


-1600.]  HOOFT  AND  VONDEL.  49 

suflBcient  in  himself  to  exalt  or  to  form  the  era.  Calm 
anticipation  might  well  expect  a  brilliant  futurity.  But 
with  the  commencement  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
a  succession  of  writers  appeared,  whose  talents  and 
learning  laid  the  foundation  and  reared  the  edifice  of 
national  literature  in  Holland. 

This  is  in  truth  an  epoch  which  arrests  the  atten- 
tion by  its  extraordinary  splendour,  a  splendour  burst- 
ing forth  from  comparative  darkness,  not  through  the 
gradual  awakening  of  a  gentle  twilight,  but  sud- 
denly blazing  into  light  and  day. 

The  latter  part  of  this  century,  however,  by  no 
means  answered  the  expectations  that  were  so  natu- 
rally excited  by  the  commencement,  especially  as  re- 
gards the  drama.  Originality  was  lost  sight  of,  and 
translations  from  the  French  became  every  day  more 
frequent.  The  fine  natural  tragedies  of  Hooft  and 
VoNDEL  found  more  eulogists  than  imitators  5  more 
who  coolly  admired  the  model  than  copied  the  master. 
The  passion  for  foreign  novelties, — a  passion  which 
has  been  at  all  times  the  bane  of  national  literature, — 
chilled  the  efforts  of  native  genius,  and  withered  all 
the  buds  of  thought,  and  all  the  expansions  of  imagi- 
nation. HooFT  and  Vondel  formed  their  dramas  on 
the  Greek  model,  introduced  the  ancient  chorus,  and 
rigidly  preserved  the  unities.  The  chorus  became  in 
some  sort  a  constituent  part  of  the  Dutch  drama,  and 

V 


50  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.  [1600- 

is  even  now  always  preserved  when  the  tragedies  of 
their  old  writers  are  represented  j  and  it  would  assur- 
edly be  an  injustice  to  the  audience  and  to  the  authors 
themselves,  were  it  omitted  j  for,  however  opinions 
may  differ  respecting  its  utility  or  good  taste,  we  can- 
not willingly  dispense  with  the  host  of  beauties  which 
the  tragic  writers  of  Holland  have  often  imparted  to 
it.  But  one  circumstance  must  not  be  omitted :  over 
this  period  an  anti-English  spirit  is  almost  universally 
spread.  The  malevolent  feelings  excited  by  inter- 
national war, — ^which,  while  it  encourages  all  the  fierce 
and  unruly  passions,  blunts  and  destroys  the  gentler 
and  the  nobler, — have  tinged  the  literature  of  Holland 
with  the  expression  of  an  eloquent  and  a  bitter  hatred 
against  our  country.  We  shall  not  inquire  how  little 
of  it  was  deserved  by  our  ancestors,  nor  how  much  of 
it  may  be  excused  or  even  applauded.  It  is  enough 
to  say  that  ill-will  produces  a  re-action  of  ill-will,  and 
that  triumph  is  dearly  purchased  at  the  price  of  mi- 
sery. 

This  century  is  not  celebrated  for  its  poets  only. 
It  had  its  heroes  in  De  Ruiter  and  Van  Tromp :  its 
statesmen  in  Barneveldt  and  the  De  Wits.  Its  learned 
writers  are  Huig  de  Groot  (Grotius),  Daniel  and  Ni- 
colaus  Heins  (Heinsius),  P.  Schryver  (Scriverius), 
Salmas  (Salraasius),  John  Frederick  Gronov  (Grono- 
vius),  Casper  van  Baerle  (Barlaeus),  John  Vos  (Vos- 


-1700.]       se\t:nteenth  century.  51 

sius) ',  and  many  other  eminent  classics.  Its  men  of 
science — Leoninus,  Aldegonde,  and  Dousa.  For  its 
painters  it  had  Rubens,  Vandyk,  Rembrandt,  Miere- 
velt,  the  Teniers,  the  Van  de  Veldes,  Jordaans,  Kuyp, 
the  Ostades,  Gerard  Douw,  Mieris,  John  and  Philip 
Wouvermans,  Metsu,  Berchera,  Paul  Potter,  Pynaker, 
the  Ruysdaels,  Van  Huysem,  Wynants,  Steen  :  and 
during  this  period  the  universities  at  Groningen*, 
Utrecht',  and  Gelderland"*,  and  the  celebrated  school* 
at  Amsterdam  were  established^. 

"  The  age  of  which  we  speak,"  says  the  learned 
Professor  Siegenbeek,  "  and  more  especially  the  ear- 
lier part  of  it,  was  in  every  point  of  view  so  glorious 
to  the  Dutch  nation,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  dis- 
cover, in  the  history  of  any  other  people,  a  period  of 
such  resplendent  fame  and  greatness." 

The  return  of  Hooft  from  Italy,  whence  he  brought 
back  the  charms  of  the  Ausonian  muses,  and  intro- 
duced the  regularity  and  refinement  of  the  southern 
schools,  laid  the  foundation  of  a  new  and  better  era 
of  poetry.    From  this  time  too  the  prose  of  Holland 

'  Of  whom  Vondel  said  : 
"  Al  wat  in  boeken  steekt  is  in  zyn  brein  gevaren." 
Wliatever  is  anchored  in  books  floated  about  in  his  brain. 

»  1614.  »  1636.  *  1648.  »  1629. 

•  The  university  of  Ley  den  was  founded  in  1574. 
d2 


52  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 

became  remarkably  vigorous  and  energetic ;  and  the 
whole  tone  of  Dutch  literature  was  elevatedj  not  only 
by  the  rapid  improvement  of  the  language,  but  by 
that  literary  and  inquiring  spirit  whose  influence 
spread  itself  over  many  generations. 


PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT, 


BORN  1581 — DIED  1647. 


HooFDiuM  quisquis  studet  aemulari 

Belga  ceratis  ope  Daedalea 

Nititiu  pennis — 

Babljevs. 


Zoo  ooit  uw  pen  zich  eer  of  duur  belooft 

Begin  toch  niets  in  't  Neerduitsch  zonder  Hooft. 

JOH.  VOLLENHOVE. 


Het  sonnc-licke  Hooft 


Dat  de  sterkste  sterren  dooft. 

HUTGENS. 


Under  a  beautiful  engraving  of  Hooft,  belonging 
to  Mr.  S.  P.  Denning  of  the  Dulwich  gallery,  are  the 
following  lines : 

Draagt  achting  voor  dit  beeld,  gy  jongen  en  gy  ouden ; 
Het  is  de  Ridder  Hooft  :  waar  moet  men  hem  voor  houden : 
O  wyzcn,  meldt  het  my  indien  gy  hier  niet  suft, 
Voor  eerlyker  van  harte,  of  kloeker  van  vernuft  ? 

R.  HlTYDECOPER. 


PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT, 

BORN  1581 DIED  1647. 


X  lETKR  CoRNELis  HooFT  was  bom  at  Amsterdam 
on  the  16th  of  March,  1581.  At  the  age  of  19  he  was 
already  a  member  of  the  "  Amsterdamsche  Kamer 
in  Liefde  Bloeijende,"  which  was  entirely  distinct 
from,  and  far  more  celebrated  than,  the  other  literary 
societies  of  that  period.  His  earliest  productions  were 
not  distinguished  by  any  of  that  sweetness  of  versifi- 
cation and  occasional  force  which  afterwards  lent  such 
charms  both  to  his  prose  works  and  poetry.  He  went 
to  France  and  Italy,  and  gave  the  first  promise  of  an 
improved  style  and  more  cultivated  taste,  in  a  poetical 
epistle,  written  at  Florence,  to  the  members  of  the 
"  Amsterdamsche  Kamer."  He  appears  to  have  made 
the  Greek,  Latin,  and  Italian  writers  his  peculiar 
study.  By  reading  the  latter  he  was  first  taught  to 
impart  that  melody  to  his  own  language  of  which  it 
had  not  hitherto  been  deemed  susceptible.  To  no 
man,  indeed,  is  Dutch  literature  more  indebted  than 
to  HooFT.  He  refined  the  versification  of  his  age, 
without  divesting  it  of  its  vigour.     His  mind  had 


56  PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  [1581- 

drunk  deeply  at  the  founts  of  knowledge,  and  his 
productions  are  always  harmonious  and  often  sublime. 
The  great  Vondel,  who  was  too  truly  noble  to  be 
jealous  of  his  fame,  calls  him 

"  Of  Holland's  poets  most  illustrious  head'." 

It  is  difficult  to  decide  whether  Hooft  or  Vondel 
was  most  honoured  by  this  eulogium. 

His  "  History  of  the  Netherlands"  affords  perhaps 
the  best  specimen  of  Dutch  prose.  He  died  on  the 
21st  of  May,  in  the  year  1647. 

His  Granida  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  specimens 
of  harmony  in  the  Dutch  language ;  and  the  critics  of 
Holland  are  fond  of  contrasting  the  flowing  music  of 
HooFT  with  the  harsh  and  cumbrous  diction  of 
Spiegel,  his  forerunner.  The  original  of  the  follow- 
ing lines  (Sc.  i.  of  the  Granida)  deserves  every  eu- 
logy for  its  poetical  grace  : 

Het  vinnigh  straalen  van  de  son 
Ontschuil  ik  in't  boschaadje. 

I'll  hie  me  to  the  forest  now. 
The  sun  shines  bright  in  glory ; 

And  of  our  courtship  every  bough 
Perchance  may  tell  the  story, 

>  "  Dat  Doorluchtig  Hooft  der  HoUandsche  Poeten." 
Hooft,  Jnglice  Head. 


-16i7.]  PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  57 

Our  courtship  ?  No  !  Our  courtship  ?  Yes ! 

There's  folly  in  believing  j 
For  of  a  hundred  youths,  I  guess 

(O  shame  !)  they're  all  deceiving. 

A  gaysome  swain  is  wandering  still. 

New  pleasures  seeking  ever  j 
And  longer  than  his  wanton  will 

His  love  endureth  never. 

My  heart  beats  hard  against  my  breast. 

So  hard — can  I  confide  now  ? 
No  !  confidence  might  break  my  rest. 

And  faith  will  not  be  tried  now. 

Oft  in  the  crowd  we  trip  and  fall. 

And  who  escape  are  fewest : 
I  hear  my  own  deliverer  call — 

Of  all  the  true  the  truest. 

But,  silly  maiden  !  look  around. 
And  see  thy  cherish'd  treasure ; 

Who  rests  or  tarries  never  found 
And  ne'er  deserved  a  pleasure. 

Should  he  disclose  his  love  to  me 

Whilst  in  this  forest  straying. 
Were  there  a  tongue  in  every  tree. 

What  might  they  not  be  saying ! 
d5 


58  PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  [1581- 

Hooft's  Geraardt  van  Velzen  and  his  Baeto  served 
as  the  groundwork  of  the  Dutch  drama.  The  Spa- 
niards had  introduced  a  taste  for  the  stage ;  but  the 
Castilian  tongue  does  not  appear  to  have  been  gene- 
rally understood  :  while  Bredero  and  S.  Coster  po- 
pularised thie  language  and  the  tragic  poetry  of  Hoi- 
land.  Hooft's  anacreontics  have  scarcely  less  merit 
than  his  plays. 

Cupid  once  in  peevish  pet 
Cried  to  Venus — "  They  are  wet — 
He  has  drench'd  my  strings  in  tears  ; 
All  my  quiver  have  I  shot — 
Wasted  all — they  pierce  him  not. 
And  his  heart  of  stone  appears." 

"  Listen,  silly  boy  !"  she  said  : 
"  Steal  a  lock  from  Doris'  head ; 
When  thy  arrows  miss — refrain  ! 
Waste  not,  trifling  rogue,  thy  strength—- 
Wait  and  watch  !  Be  sure  at  length 
Cupid  shall  his  victory  gain." 

So  he  runs  where  Doris  dresses. 

But  he  dared  not  steal  her  tresses  5 — 

For  a  straggling  hair  or  two 

Softly  he  implores  the  fair : 

Bends  his  bow — "  The  shaft  is  here — 

He  has  pierced  me  through  and  through." 


-1647.]         PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  59 

Naare  nacht  van  benauwde  drie  jaaren. 

Thbee  long  years  have  o'erwhelm'd  me  in  sadness^ 

Since  the  sun  veil'd  his  vision  of  gladness  : 
Sorrow  be  banish'd — for  sorrow  is  dreary  j 
Sorrow  and  gloom  but  outweary  the  weary. 

In  my  heart  I  perceive  the  day  breaking, 

I  cannot  resist  its  awaking. 

On  my  brow  a  new  sun  is  arisen. 

And  bright  is  its  glance  o'er  my  prison  j 
Gaily  and  grandly  it  sparkles  about  me, 
Flowingly  shines  it  veithin  and  without  me  : 

Why,  why  should  dejection  disarm  me — 

My  fears  or  my  fancies  alarm  me  ? 

Laughing  light,  lovely  life,  in  the  heaven 

Of  thy  forehead  is  virtue  engraven  ; 
Thy  red  coral  lips,  when  they  breathe  an  assenting. 
To  me  are  a  dawn  which  Apollo  is  painting. 

Thy  eyes  drive  the  gloom  with  their  sparkling 

Where  sadness  and  folly  sit  darkling. 

Lovely  eyes — then  the  beauties  have  bound  them. 
And  scatter'd  their  shadows  around  them ; 
Stars,  in  whose  twinklings  the  virtues  and  graces. 
Sweetness  and  meekness,  all  hold  their  high-places  : 
But  the  brightest  of  stars  is  but  twilight 
Compared  with  that  beautiful  eye-light. 


60  PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  [1581- 

Fragrant  mouth — All  the  flow'rs  spring  is  wreathing 
Are  dull  to  the  sweets  thou  art  breathing  ; 
The  charms  of  thy  song  might  summon  the  spirit 
To  sit  on  the  ears  all-enchanted  to  hear  it : 
What  marvel  then  if  in  its  kisses 
My  soul  is  overwhelm 'd  with  sweet  blisses  ? 

O  how  blest,  how  divine  the  employment. 
How  heavenly,  how  high  the  enjoyment ! 
Delicate  lips  and  soft  amorous  glances. 
Kindling  and  quenching  and  fanning  sweet  fancies. 
Now,  now  to  my  heart's  centre  rushing. 
And  now  through  my  veins  they  are  gushing. 

Dazzling  eyes — that  but  laugh  at  our  ruin. 

Nor  think  of  the  wrongs  ye  are  doing ; 
Fountains  of  gladness  and  beacons  of  glory. 
How  do  ye  scatter  the  dark  mists  before  yg  ;— 

Can  my  weakness  your  tyranny  bridle  ? 

O  no !  all  resistance  is  idle. 

Ah !  my  soul !  ah  !  my  soul  is  submitted  ; 

Thy  lips — thy  sweet  lips — they  are  fitted 
With  a  kiss  to  dissolve  into  joy  and  affection 
The  dreamings  of  hope  and  of  gay  recollection. 

And  sure  never  triumph  was  purer. 

And  sure  never  triumph  was  surer. 


-1647.]  PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  61 

I  am  bound  to  your  beauty  completely, 
I  am  fetter'd  and  fasten'd  so  sweetly ; 

And  bless'd  are  the  tones  and  the  looks  and  the  mind 
too 

MTiich  my  senses  control  and  my  heart  is  inclined  to  : 
While  virtue,  the  holiest  and  brightest. 
Has  fasten'd  love's  fetters  the  tightest. 


CHORUS  OF  WOMEN. 

(From  tlie  Tragedy  of  Baeto.) 

Was  ever  human  heart  so  hard, 
'Gainst  sympathy's  bright  glances  barr'd. 
When  miseries,  such  as  ours,  oppress 
Poor  woman's  wretched  helplessness  ? 
Ah !  he  who  sees  this  struggling  band. 
Sad  exiles  from  their  father-land. 
And  sees  them,  with  unalter'd  eye. 
Borne  down  by  grief  and  misery. 
Is  sterner  than  the  ocean-rock 
That  stands  unmoved  by  tempest  shock  : 
And  he  who  pities  not  our  woe. 
To  some  devouring  brute  must  owe 
Existence — not  to  man  :  no  tear 
Will  e'er  bedew  his  cheeks.     For  here 


62  PIETER  COENELIS  HOOFT.  [1581- 

The  pregnant  female  creeps  dLstress'd, 
Her  crying  infant  on  her  breast. 
While  fears  pervade  her  shuddering  frame 
For  husband — child — for  life  and  fame. 
Where'er  the  slightest  whisper  falls. 
And  here  the  helpless  widow  crawls ; 
Or  childless,  or  child-fostering,  still 
Each  thinks  her  own  the  greater  ill. 
Here  the  betroth'd  young  maid,  who  loves 
With  all  her  heart's  best  passion,  roves  ; 
Before  her  bridegroom's  restless  eye. 
That  sees  its  fondest  visions  fly- 
Here  roams  the  inexperienced  fair 
With  trembling  steps  :  the  orphan  heir 
Before  his  guardians  walks,  afraid. 
And  here  go  forth,  with  statfs  to  aid. 
The  aged  men,  who  ne'er  as  slaves 
Would  pass  to  their  unheeded  graves  ; 
For  though  the  frame  may  wither'd  be. 
Still  blooms  the  heart  of  Liberty. 
Here  parents  from  their  children  sever. 
Bound  to  their  king  by  oath  for  ever  : 
The  brother  quits  his  sister's  side, 
And  friends  from  long-tried  friends  divide  ; 
The  burgher  leaves  his  home  to  fate ; 
The  lord  his  post  ,•  the  prince  his  state  j 


-le*?.]         PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  63 

And  drags  his  infant  son  along, 

A  sufferer  wrong'd — who  did  no  wrong. 

Too  young  for  crime.     We  wept — (but  ought 

Rather  to  triumph  in  the  thought !) — 

We  wept  the  brave,  who  sank  beneath 

The  foeman's  arms  to  glorious  death 

Without  remorse — without  a  fear. 

Thrice  happy  heroes  !  whom  a  spear. 

With  iron  point,  or  wooden  stave 

Has  driven  from  life — and  whom  the  grave 

Has  shelter'd  from  all  fiiture  woe. 

Ye  never  knew,  and  cannot  know. 

How  sad  the  choice,  how  great  the  pains^ 

Of  banishment  or  slavery's  chains; 

We  move  within  a  circle,  where 

Is  nought  save  suffering,  grief,  and  care  ; 

Frighted,  fright-scattering  even  on  those 

Our  friends — who  should  have  steram'd  our  foes. 


The  versification  of  the  following  is,  in  the  original, 
remarkably  smooth  and  flowing  : 

Zal  nenunenneer  gebeuren  my  dan,  naa  deze  stondt. 

Oh  !  must  I  then  surrender  the  sweets  I  dearly  prize. 
The  blisses  of  thy  lips,  love,  the  friendship  of  thine  eyes. 
The  blisses  of  thy  lips,  love — of  thy  lips,  love  t 


64-  PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  [1581- 

The  blisses  of  thy  lips,  love — the  friendship  of  thine 

eyes  ! 
The  favour  of  thy  bosom  that  open'd  to  my  sighs. 
The  favour  of  thy  bosom,  of  thy  bosom  ? 

Yet  I  shall  be  for  ever  thy  willing  slave  and  true ; 
But  oh  !  my  wilder'd  senses !  how  shall  I  govern  you  ? 
But  oh  !  my  wilder'd  senses — wilder'd  senses. 

They  all  may  vanish  quickly,  and  wander  from  me  far. 
Now  they  have  lost  thee,  dearest !  their  light — their 
guiding-star ; 
Now  they  have  lost  thee,  dearest !  lost  thee,  dearest ! 

The  fair  one's  tears  descended — she  strove  in  vain  to 

speak. 
The  drops  that  love  had  cherish'd  fell  down  on  either 
cheek ; 
The  drops  that  love  had  cherish'd,  love  had  cherish'd. 

The  soothing  tears  of  pity,  which  more  than  smiles 

impart. 
Even  in  his  deepest  misery,  gave  solace  to  his  heart. 
Even  in  his  deepest  misery,  deepest  misery. 

Dame  Venus*  with  her  bright  star  now  look'd  out 

from  above, 
Andsawthisgentlecourtshipwithwonderand with  love. 
And  saw  this  gentle  courtship,  gentle  courtship. 

*  Vrouw  Venus. 


-164-7.]         PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT.  65 

"  And  since  the  glittering  tear-drops  such  influence 

own,"  she  cried, 
"  Why  is  the  power  of  weeping  unto  the  gods  denied  ? 
Why  is  the  power  of  weeping,  power  of  weeping } " 

The  tender  tears  descended.    The  goddess  came  be- 
neath, 
"  Hold  !  rather  would  I  trample  upon  my  rosy  wreath. 
Hold  !  rather  would  I  trample,  would  I  trample." 

And,  fearing  lest  some  footstep  might  injure  them,  she 

stole 
And  caught  the  living  tear-drops  within  a  rose's  bowl. 
And  caught  the  living  tear-drops,  living  tear-drops. 

"  Oh  !  what  are  all  ray  roses,  or  what  my  chaplet  fair  ? 
Bright  pearls  I  now  can  fashion  beyond  the  world's 

compare. 
t      Bright  pearls  I  now  can  fashion,  now  can  fashion." 

i  As  soon  as  this  was  spoken,  her  tears  as  pearls  appear. 
Which  she  with  gold  pierc'd  lightly,  and  hung  in  either 
!  ear. 

Which  she  with  gold  pierc'd  lightly,  gold  pierc'd 
lightly. 

When  Venus  in  her  mirror  thus  saw  herself  array'd. 
She  wanted  neither  garlands  nor  talismanic  aid. 
She  wanted  neither  garlands,  neither  garlands. 


66  PIETER  CORNELIS  HOOFT. 


ADDRESS  TO  SLEEP. 

Is  Death,  which  has  been  branded  as  a  curse. 
Too  fair  a  guest  to  visit  one  abhorr'd  ? 
Then  art  thou  welcome  in  my  fearful  need. 
Care-soothing  Sleep,  thou  relative  of  Death, 
Who  now  alone  canst  still  my  inward  grief; 
Protector  of  the  wrung  and  tortured  heart. 
Who  to  the  weary  frame  and  woe-worn  mind 
Bring'st  the  full  goblet  of  Oblivion's  sweets. 
Oh  !  that  illusion  would  so  fill  my  brain. 
That  the  frame's  rest  might  from  the  spirit  keep 
Those  dreadful  images,  which  are  impress'd, 
^By  the  departed  anguish  of  the  day. 
On  the  weak  judgment! 

Geraardt  van  Velzen,  p.  491, 


MARIA  TESSELSCHADE  VISSCHER. 


O  Tessela  !  leeft  van  Goden  gekust. 
Die  al  de  vijf  sinnen  kunt  geven  haer  lust. 

Kasfer  vak  Baerle. 


MARIA  TESSELSCHADE  VISSCHER. 


JVlAHiA  Tesselschade  Visscher  lived  at  the  time 
of  HooFT,  who  seems  to  have  been  her  model.  Her 
writings  are  unaffected  and  spirited.  She  translated 
the  Jerusalem  Delivered  of  Tasso. 

She  addressed  the  original  of  the  following  verses 
to  a  musical  friend  : 

Prijst  vrij  de  Nachtegael. 

Prize  thou  the  Nightingale 
Who  soothes  thee  with  his  tale. 
And  wakes  the  woods  around ; 
A  singing  feather  he — a  wing'd  and  wandering  sound : 

Whose  tender  carolling 
Sets  all  ears  listening 
Unto  that  living  lyre 
Whence  flow  the  airy  notes  his  ecstasies  inspire : 

Whose  shrill  capricious  song 
Breathes  like  a  flute  along. 
With  many  a  careless  tone. 
Music  of  thousand  tongues  formed  by  one  tongue  alone. 


70  MARIA  TESSELSCHADE  VISSCHER. 

O  channing  creature  rare. 
Can  aught  with  thee  compare  ? 
Thou  art  all  song ;  thy  breast 
Thrills  for  one  month  o'  the  year — is  tranquil  all  the 
rest. 

Thee  wondrous  we  may  call — 
Most  wondrous  this  of  all. 
That  such  a  tiny  throat 
Should  wake  so  wide  a  sound,  and  pour  so  loud  a  note. 

Her  sister  Anna,  who  was  her  contemporary,  gained 
great  credit  by  her  writings,  which,  however,  although 
easy  and  graceful  in  point  of  versification,  were  gene- 
rally on  inferior  and  every-day  subjects,  and  had  less 
of  the  poetry  of  thought  than  those  of  the  former. 


JACOB  CATS. 


BORN  1577 DIED  1660. 


Attached  to  an  old  Edition  of  Cats's  work  is  the 
following  curious  Acrostic : 

I  ngenii  dotes  raras  mirabitur  illi  C 

A  rdua  mens  tanti,  queis  nobis  docta  camoen  A 

C  urabit  studio  vigilanti  emblemata  rara  u  T 

O  mnes  sic  superet,  Musarum  gratia  vel  quei  S 

B  landa  favet :  merito  tollunt  ad  sidera  doct  I 

U  ndique  :  perge  tuo  tot  vates  vincere  vers  U 

S  olus  eos  inter  Phoebus  velut  ipse  sedebi  S. 


O  Cats,  als  Dichter  meer  dan  al  wie  u  verachten ; 
Gy  wien  de  dank  behoort  der  laatste  nageslachten, 
Aan  wien  ik  (wie  't  ook  zij,  die  op  uw  eerkroon  smaalt) 
Ook  zelfs  mijn  lauwren  dank  aan  Findus  voet  behaalt. 

BlLDERSYK. 


Geen  ding  was  voor  sijn  oog  zoo  kleyn 
Oft  ging  hem  tot  het  innig  breyn, 
Geen  dit  of  dat  geen  boere-schuyt 
Of  hy  en  trock  er  voordeel  uyt. 


Feith. 


JACOB  CATS. 


J  AcoB  Cats,  less  the  poet  of  imagination  than  of 
truth  ;  less  the  inciter  to  deeds  of  heroism  and  subli- 
mity than  the  gentle  adviser  to  acts  of  virtue  and  en- 
joyments of  innocence  3  less  capable  of  awaking  the 
impulses  of  the  fancy  than  of  calling  into  exertion  the 
dormant  energies  of  reason  and  morality,  was  born 
at  Brouwershaven,  a  small  town  in  Zealand,  in  the 
year  1577.  He  was  well  versed  in  the  ancient  and 
modem  languages,  and  as  celebrated  for  the  purity  of 
his  life  as  remarkable  for  the  sound  sense  and  virtuous 
tendency  of  his  writings.  He  possessed  an  admirable 
knowledge  of  men  and  manners,  a  correct  judgment, 
and  a  striking  simplicity  of  language ;  indeed,  it  is  a 
question  whether  he  did  not  indulge  too  freely  in  his 
love  for  unvarnished  matters  of  fact.  The  "  foreign  aid 
of  ornament,"  skilfully  employed,  might  have  set  off  to 
advantage  that  earnest  and  interesting  zeal  in  favour 
of  truth  and  piety,  which  is  so  prominent  in  his  works. 
But  there  is,  notwithstanding,  something  so  hearty 
in  his  unsophisticated  style,  something  so  touching  in 
his  simplicity,  and  something  so  frank  and  noble  in 

E 


74!  JACOB  CATS.  [1577- 

his  precepts, — that  we  can  scarcely  regret  his  having 
given  them  to  us  unchanged  by  refinement  and  un- 
adorned by  art. 

Cats  had  all  Vondel's  devotion,  kindled  at  a  purer 
and  a  simpler  altar.  His  wisdom  was  vast,  and  all 
attuned  to  religious  principle  j  his  habits  were  those 
of  sublime  and  aspiring  contemplation  ;  and  his  poetry 
is  such  as  a  prophet  would  give  utterance  to.  He  was 
the  poet  of  the  people.  In  his  verses  they  found  their 
duties  recorded,  and  seeming  to  derive  additional  au- 
thority from  the  solemn  and  emphatic  dress  they  wore. 
He  is  every  where  original,  and  often  sublime. 

He  died  in  1660. 


CUPID  LOST  AND  CRIED. 

Het  weeligh  boeQe,  Venus-kint. 

The  Child  of  Venus,  wanton,  wild. 

The  slyest  rogue  that  ever  smiled. 

Had  lately  stray'd — where  ?  who  shall  guess  } 

His  motlier  pined  in  sad  distress  ; — 

She  calls  the  boy  j  she  sighs,  complains. 
But  still  no  news  of  Cupid  gains  : 
For  though  her  sorrow  grew  apace 
None  knew  the  urchin's  resting-place; 


-1660.]  JACOB  CATS.  75 

She  therefore  vow'd  the  boy  should  be 
Cried  o'er  the  country  speedily : 
"  If  there  be  any  who  can  tell 
Where  little  Cupid  's  wont  to  dwell, 
A  fit  reward  he  shall  enjoy 
If  he  track  out  the  truant  boy ; 
His  recompense  a  fragrant  kiss 
From  Venus'  ruby  mouth  of  bliss  j 
But  he  who  firmly  holds  the  knave 
Shall  yet  a  sweeter  guerdon  have. 
And  lest  ye  should  mistake  the  wight. 
List  to  his  form  described  aright  ;— 
He  is  a  little  wayward  thing,  .  .  j  . . 

That's  panoplied  on  fiery  wing ; 
Two  pinions,  like  a  swan,  he  carries. 
And  never  for  an  instant  tarries. 
But  now  Is  here  and  now  is  there. 
And  couples  many  a  curious  pair. 
His  eyes  like  two  bright  stars  are  glowing. 
And  ever  sidelong  glances  throwing : 
He  bears  about  a  crafty  bow. 
And  wounds  before  the  wounded  know  : 
His  dart,  though  gilt  to  please  the  view. 
Is  dipp'd  in  bitter  venom  too : 
His  body,  though  'tis  bare  to  sight. 
Has  overthrown  full  many  a  knight  : 
e2 


76  JACOB  CATS.  [1577- 

His  living  torch,  though  mean  and  small. 

Oft  makes  the  hardiest  warrior  fall ; 

The  highest  dames  with  cares  invades. 

And  spares  not  even  the  tenderest  maids  ;  — 

Nay,  what  is  worse  than  all  the  rest. 

He  sometimes  wounds  his  mother's  breast. 

If  such  an  urchin  should  be  found. 
Proclaim  the  joyous  news  around  j 
And  should  the  boy  attempt  to  fly, 
O  seize  him,  seize  him  daringly. 
But  if  you  have  the  child  at  last. 
Be  careful  that  you  hold  him  fast. 
Or  else  the  roving  bird  he  '11  play. 
And  vanish  in  thin  air  away : 
And  if  he  seem  to  pine  and  grieve. 
You  must  not  heed  him — nor  believe— 
Nor  trust  his  tears  and  feign'd  distress. 
His  winning  glance  and  bland  caress  j 
But  watch  his  cheek  when  dimples  wreathe  it. 
And  think  that  evil  lurks  beneath  it  j 
For  under  his  pretended  smile 
Are  veil'd  the  deepest  craft  and  guile. 
If  he  a  kiss  should  offer,  shun  ;, 

The  proffer'd  gift,  or  be  undone  ; 
His  ruby  lips  thy  heart  would  sentence 
To  brief  delight,  but  long  repentance  : 


-1660.]  JACOB    CATS.  77 

But  if  the  cunning  boy  will  give 
His  dart  to  you — Oh  !  ne'er  receive. 
If  you  would  hope  for  blissful  years. 
The  present  that  so  fair  appears  : 
It  is  no  pledge  of  love — but  shame 
And  danger  and  destroying  flame. 
Then,  friends — to  speak  with  brevity — 
This  wholesome  warning  take  from  me  : 
Let  those  who  seize  the  wily  ranger 
Be  on  their  guard  'gainst  many  a  danger ; 
For,  if  they  venture  too  securely. 
Misfortunes  will  assail  them  surely ; 
And  if  they  trust  the  boy  in  aught. 
The  catchers  will  themselves  be  caught," 


Daer  is  weleer  een  beelt  geweesU 

We  read  in  books  of  ancient  lore. 
An  image  stood  in  days  of  yore. 
Which,  when  the  sun  with  splendour  dight 
Cast  on  its  lips  his  golden  light. 
Those  lips  gave  back  a  silver  sound. 
Which  fill'd  for  hours  the  waste  around : 
But  when  again  the  living  blaze 
Withdrew  its  music-waking  rays. 


78  JACOB  CATS.  [1577- 

Or  passing  clouds  its  splendour  veil'd. 
Or  evening  shades  its  face  conceal'd. 
This  image  stood  all  silent  there. 
Nor  lent  one  whisper  to  the  air. 
This  was  of  old — And  even  now. 
The  man  who  lives  in  fortune's  glow 
Bears  off  the  palm  of  sense  and  knowledge 
In  town  and  country,  court  and  college  j 
And  all  assert  nem.  con.  whatever 
Comes  from  his  mouth  is  vastly  clever  : 
But  when  the  glowing  sun  retires. 
His  reign  is  o'er,  and  dimm'd  his  fires  j 
And  all  his  praise  like  vapour  flies, — 
For  who  e'er  calls  a  poor  man  wise  r 


Wanneer  het  klim  de  boom  onwangt. 

When  ivy  twines  around  a  tree. 
And  o'er  the  boughs  hangs  verdantly. 
Or  on  the  bark,  however  rough, 
it  seems  indeed  polite  enough  ; 
And  (judging  from  external  things) 
We  deem  it  there  in  friendship  clings ; 
But  where  our  weak  and  mortal  eyes 
Attain  not — hidden  treachery  lies : 


-1660.]  JACOB   CATS.  79 

'Tis  there  it  brings  decay  unseen. 
While  all  without  seems  bright  and  green ; 
So  that  the  tree  which  flourish'd  fair. 
Before  its  time  grows  old  and  bare ; 
Then,  like  a  barren  log  of  wood. 
It  stands  in  lifeless  solitude. 
For  treachery  drags  it  to  its  doom. 
Which  gives  but  blight — yet  promised  bloom. 
Thou,  whom  the  powerful  Fates  have  hurl'd 
'Midst  this  huge  forest  call'd  the  world. 
Know,  that  not  all  are  friends  whose  faces 
Are  habited  in  courteous  graces  j 
But  think,  that  'neath  the  sweetest  smile 
Oft  lurk  self-interest,  hate,  and  guile  j 
Or,  that  some  gay  and  playful  joke 
Is  Spite's  dark  sheath,  or  Envy's  cloak. 
Then  love  not  each  who  offers  thee. 
In  seeming  truth,  his  amity  j 
But  first  take  heed,  and  weigh  with  care. 
Ere  he  thy  love  and  favour  share ; 
For  those  who  fi-iends  too  lightly  choose. 
Soon  friends  and  all  besides  may  lose. 


30  JACOB  CATS. 

\ 

Die  voor  den  bliksem  vreest,  of  voor  onstuymig  weder. 

Who  flies  the  madden'd  storm,  or  fears  the  lightning's 

ire. 
Should  lurk  in  life's  low  vale,  nor  to  proud  heights 

aspire. 
The  lowly  roof  may  stand  by  the  fierce  bolt  unriven 
When  the  loud  tempest  sends  its  mandate  through 

the  heaven. 
And  shakes  the  stubborn  rocks  that  lift  their  heads  on 

high. 
Braving  with  granite  crosvns  the  blue  and  lofty  sky ; — 
It  strikes  the  mighty  tower,  the  monarch's  citadel. 
But  spares  the  clay-built  shed,  where  peace  and  meek- 
ness dwell. 
Oh  !  happy,  happy  he,  whose  generous  soul  can  rise 
Above  the  dross  of  wealth,  or  pomp,  or  vanities — 
Scorn  splendour,  pleasure,  fame ;  and  say  with  honest 

pride, — 
I  have  ye  not  indeed,  but  yet  am  satisfied. 


LAURENS  REAEL. 


BORN   1583 DIED  1637. 


k5 


Een  Febus  op  de  lier,  een  Ti/m  op  de  baren. 

Jan  Vos. 


LAURENS  REAEL. 


LiAURENS  Reael  was  born  at  Amsterdam,  and  be- 
came justly  celebrated  for  his  many  acquirements. 
He  was  a  knight,  and  governor-general  of  India.  As 
vice-admiral  and  ambassador  he  is  also  well  known 
and  esteemed.     Jan  Vos  calls  him — 

A  Phoebus  on  the  lyre,  a  Tiphys  on  the  wares. 
He  died  in  1637. 


Moghte  ick  nu  mijn  krans  van  roosen. 

1  WILL  twine  a  wreath  of  roses 
Round  my  shepherd's  flowing  hair  j 
And  the  world  will  then  declare 

That  the  wreath  my  love  discloses  : 
Should  there  still  remain  a  doubt. 
With  my  lips  I'll  blot  it  out. 

By  his  gentle  flock  surrounded. 
Oft  his  cheerful  pipe  he  plays — 
Yet  if  any  damsel  strays 

Tow'rds  him — O  I  am  confounded 
With  the  spirit-withering  fear. 
Lest  that  maid  those  tones  should  hear. 


84  LAURENS    REAEL. 

Oft  I  think  the  Fates  would  bless  me 
Were  I  to  a  lambkin  changed. 
Then,  whilst  I  with  others  ranged. 

My  own  shepherd  would  caress  me  : 
When  his  gentle  flock  I  see. 
With  them  I  would  ever  be. 

Gentle  flock,  my  every  feeling 
Let  the  youthful  shepherd  know  ; 
Vernal  shades,  disclose  my  woe  j 

Trees,  be  all  my  love  revealing  : — 
Yet  my  own  tale  1  would  tell 
To  the  swain  I  love  so  well. 

Winds,  that  summer's  fragrance  rifle. 
Tell  him  all  that  ye  have  heard — 
Tell  him  freely  word  for  word. 

That  my  sorrows  he  may  stifle  : 
Give  my  love,  in  sweetest  tone. 
And  in  lieu  demand  his  own. 


GERBRAND  BREDERODE. 


BORN   1585 — DIED   1618. 


criuc 


In  Editionem  Pdematum  nobilisdmi  Batavi  To'ilce  Gerbrandi 
Brederodii. 

Roma  sibi  placuit  divina  capta  Poesi, 

Dum  placet  argutis  Accius  illecebris  ; 
Aut  rediviva  suis  ardentia  Pergama  fiammis, 

Quaeque  gravis  veterum  digna  cothurnus  habet ; 
Aut  tristes  elegi,  aut  satyraj  raordentia  verba, 

Aut  festivus  amor,  compositive  sales. 
Quid  sibi  non  placeat  Batavum  caput  Amstelodamum 

Ilia  peregrinos  jactat,  at  ilia  suum. 
Adde ;  quod  innumeri  vix  praestitere  Poetae, 

Unus  sacra  jocos  tristia  la^ta  dedit. 

Hoorr. 


Hier  rust  Brero  been  gereist 
Daer  de  boot  geen  veergelt  eisclit 
Van  den  geeste  die  met  zijn  kluchten 
Holp  aan  't  lachen  al  die  zuchten. 


VoNDEL. 


GERBRAND  BREDERODE. 


(jTerbraxd  Brkderode  was  born  at  Amsterdam  on 
the  16th  March,  1585.  His  works,  during  his  life- 
time, were  held  in  great  esteem  5  but  they  have  of  late 
years  been  comparatively  neglected  by  his  country- 
men. 

^V'hether  this  arises  from  his  occasional  want  of 
polish,  or  from  a  change  in  public  opinion,  or  from 
both  of  these  causes  combined,  is  now  difficult  to  de- 
termine. Yet  it  appears  to  us  that  he  has  been  rather 
unfairly  treated.  Even  Jbronimo  de  Vries,  in  his 
Proeve  eener  Geschiedenis  der  Nederduitsche  Dicht- 
kunde,  (Specimen  of  a  History  of  Dutch  Poetical 
Literature,)  although  generally  the  most  lenient  of 
critics,  has,  we  think,  barely  done  him  justice.  Bre- 
derode  had  not,  it  is  true,  the  imagination,  and  ener- 
gy, and  sublimity  of  Hooft  and  Vondel,  and  others 
of  his  contemporaries ;  but  he  possessed  abundant 
natural  feeling,  an  almost  feminine  sensibility,  and, 
in  most  instances,  an  easy  and  harmonious  flow  of 


88  GERBRAND    BREDERODE.  [1585- 

versification.  Nor,  although  living  in  the  golden  age 
of  Dutch  literature,  did  he  ever  abandon  his  origi- 
nality of  thought  and  expression,  and  condescend  to 
be  the  mere  imitator  of  even  the  most  splendid  models 
which  his  country  has  produced.  It  should  also  be 
borne  in  mind,  that  he  was  an  utter  stranger  to  the 
learned  languages,  and  that  he  died  when  only  thirty- 
three  years  of  age. 

He  was  principally  celebrated  for  his  comedies,  into 
which  he  introduced  the  language  of  the  lower  classes 
of  Amsterdam  with  great  effect.  It  is  said  that  he 
often  attended  the  fish-market  and  similar  places,  to 
collect  materials  for  his  various  pieces.  This  is  ap- 
parent in  his  Moortje  and  his  Spaanschen  Brabandf.r. 
His  poems  were  published  at  Amsterdam  in  1622, 
by  Cornells  van  der  Plasse,  under  the  titles  of  Het 
Boertigh  Liedt-Boeck  (Facetious  Song-Book) ;  De 
Groote  Bron  der  Minnen  (The  Great  Fountain  of 
Love)  J  and  Aendachtigh  Liedt-Boeck  (Meditative 
Song-Book). 

The  first  edition,  published  at  Leyden  by  Govert 
Basson,  was  followed  by  a  pirated  one  at  Amsterdam. 
To  the  latter  he  thus  alludes  in  the  Preface  to  his 
Boertigh  Liedt-Boeck  -. 

"  Next  appeared  a  spurious  edition  at  Amsterdam, 
containing  among  other  things  lewd  and  lascivious 


-1618.]  GERBRAND    BREDERODE.  89 

verses,  which  I,  of  course,  gained  the  credit  of  having 
written  j  but  the  honour  that  was  thus  conferred  upon 
me,  and  the  gratitude  that  I  owe  to  these  my  bene- 
factors, I  shall  take  an  opportunity  of  acknowledging 
in  a  manner  that  they  will  remember.  For  truly  all 
pure-hearted  and  generous  persons  will  now  pause  ere 
they  publish  any  work,  however  creditable  to  their 
feelings  and  morality,  seeing  unlawfulness  has  risen 
to  such  a  pitch,  that  any  individual  may  give  his  dis- 
gusting obscenities  to  the  world  under  the  cloak  of 
another's  name." 

Bredebode  died  on  the  23d  of  August,  1618. 


Nu  dobbert  myn  liefje  op  de  zee 

Op  de  woelende  springhende  baaren. 

Groote  Bron  der  Minnen,  p.  10. 

Mt  love  is  now  floating  away  from  me 

On  the  waves  that  in  chorus  are  sounding. 
As  they  rise  from  the  vast  and  foaming  sea. 
O'er  whose  bosom  his  ship  is  bounding. 
Sail  on,  sail  on,  with  breezes  fair. 
And  never  from  thy  memory  tear 
The  girl  whose  home  is  there. 


90         GERBRAND  BREDERODE.     [1585- 

Oh  !  if  two  eyes  like  the  sun  were  mine. 

Which  might  gaze  o'er  the  world  for  ever ; 
Or  could  1  beguile  one  grief  of  thine, 
I  would  follow  and  leave  thee  never. 

Though  maiden  shame  restrains  my  will. 
Though  parted  by  rising  wave  and  hill. 
My  soul  is  with  thee  still. 

And  though  I  have  not  the  Athenian's '  art. 

Which  through  air  was  hLs  love's  protection  ; 
Yet,  would  but  this  earthly  clay  depart, — 
With  the  guiding  star  of  affection 

My  soul  should  lead  the  wanderer  on. 
With  thee  it  goes — with  thee  'tis  gone — 
Each  thought  is  thine  alone. 

Were  the  voice  of  Stentor  mine,  for  aye 

Should  that  voice  be  heard  beside  thee  j 
But,  alas  !  no  words  can  force  their  way 
Through  the  gather'd  clouds  that  hide  thee  : 
Yet  though  between  us  oceans  roar. 
My  heart  beyond  all  space  will  soar. 
And  speak  with  thine  once  more. 


'  Dsedalus. 


-1618.]  GERBRAND   BREDERODE.  91 

Were  Medea's  magic  skill  ray  own, 

Not  an  adverse  wind  should  alarm  thee ; 

In  his  caves  1  would  strike  rude  ^olus  dovim. 

That  no  breath  might  escape  to  harm  thee  : 

Or  steal  from  him  a  gentle  gale. 

To  waft  thee  on,  and  never  fail 

Thy  widely-spreading  sail. 

The  winds  and  the  waters  of  the  sea. 

The  fix'd  poles  and  the  bright  stars  peeping — 
Are  dearer  now  than  all  else  to  me. 

Since  my  love — light — life  — are  in  their  keeping. 
O  merciful  Gods  who  o'er  us  move  ! 
O  Rulers  of  all  around — above — 
Protect  and  shield  my  love  ! 

Thy  pensive  bride  is  weeping  alone. 
And  tearing  her  hair  asunder  : — 
Yes  !  thy  turtle-dove  doth  nought  but  moan 
Now  the  surges  and  tempests  thunder. 

Thou  loved-one  ! — loved-one  ! — while  apart, 
What  anguish  fills  her  sorrowing  heart 
Who  lives  but  where  thou  art ! 

My  love  is  now  floating  away  from  me 
On  the  waves  that  so  loudly  are  sounding. 

As  they  rise  from  the  vast  and  foaming  sea 
O'er  whose  bosom  his  ship  is  bounding. 


92  GERBRAND  BREDERODE.  [1585- 

Sail  on,  sail  on,  with  breezes  fair. 

And  never  from  thy  memory  tear 

The  girl  whose  home  is  there. 


Moy  Aeltjen  is't  soo  Iiaest  vergheten, 
Myn  lang  vervolg  van  dagh  en  nacht. 

Groote  Bron  der  Minnen,  p.  13. 

Canst  thou  so  soon  unkindly  sever 

My  long,  long  suit  from  memory  ? 
The  precious  time  now  lost  for  ever. 

The  vanish'd  moments  pass'd  with  thee. 
In  friendliness,  in  love's  caress. 
In  happiness,  and  converse  free  from  guile. 
From  night  till  morning,  and  'neath  twilight's  smile. 

A  father's  rage  and  friends*  derision 

For  thee  I  've  borne,  when  thou  wert  kind  j 

But  they  fled  by  me  as  a  vision 

That  fades  and  leaves  no  trace  behind. 
Oh  !  thus  I  deem'd,  when  fondly  beam'd. 

And  purely  gleam'd,  those  brilliant  eyes,  whose  ray 

Hath  made  me  linger  near  thee  through  the  day. 


-1618.]  GERBRAND  BREDERODE.  93 

How  oft  those  tender  hands  I've  taken. 

And  drawn  thera  to  my  breast,  whose  flame 

Seem'd,  at  their  gentle  touch,  to  waken 

To  feelings  I  dared  scarcely  name  ! 

I  wish'd  to  wear  a  lattice  there 

Of  crystal  clear  or  purest  glass,  that  well 

Tliou  mightst  behold  what  tongue  could  never  tell. 

Oh  !  could  the  heart  within  me  glowing 

E'er  from  its  cell  have  been  removed, 
I  had  not  shrunk — that  heart  bestowing 

On  thee,  whom  I  so  warmly  loved  : 
So  long'd  to  wed,  so  cherished. 
Ah  !  who  could  dread  that  thou  wouldst  wanton  be. 
And  so  inconstant  in  thy  love  to  me  ! 

Another  youth  has  stoln  my  treasure. 

And  placed  himself  upon  the  throne 
Where  late  1  reign 'd,  supreme  in  pleasure. 

And  weakly  thought  it  all  my  own. 
What  causes  now  that  chilling  brow  ? 
Or  where  didst  thou  such  evil  counsel  gain. 
As  thus  to  pride  and  glory  in  my  pain  ? 

What  thoughts,  too  painful  to  be  spoken. 

Hath  falsehood  for  thy  soul  prepared, 
^^'hen  thou  survey'st  each  true-love  token. 

And  think'st  of  joys  together  shared  ! 


94  GERBRAND  BREDERODE.  [1585- 

Of  VOWS  we  made  beneath  the  shad6. 
And  kisses  paid  by  my  fond  lips  to  thine. 
And  given  back  with  murmur'd  sigh  to  mine  ! 

Bethink  thee  of  those  hours  of  wooing, — 
Of  words  that  seem'd  the  breath  of  truth, — 

The  Eden  thou  hast  made  a  ruin, — 
My  wither'd  hopes  and  blighted  youth  ! 
It  wonders  me  that  thou  shouldst  be 

So  calm  and  free,  nor  dread  the  rage  that  burns 

Within  the  heart  where  love  to  malice  turns. 

Away — away — accurs'd  deceiver ! 

With  tears  delude  the  eyes  and  brain 
Of  him,  the  fond — the  weak  believer — 

Who  follows  now  thy  fickle  train. 

That  senseless  hind  (to  whom  thou'rt  kind 
Not  for  his  mind,  but  for  his  treasured  ore) 
Disturbs  me  not — farewell !  we  meet  no  more. 


Al  waert  dat  mijn,  de  Godt  Jupijn. 

Groote  Bron  der  Minnen,  p.  56. 

If  all  were  mine  that  Jove  divine 

Or  other  gods  could  proffer. 
Of  pomp  or  show,  or  dazzling  glow, 

I  would  not  take  fheir  offer. 


-1618.]  GERBRAND  BREDERODE.  95 

If  I  must  thee  surrender. 
In  payment  for  their  splendour. 
No  !  I  would  seek  the  gods,  and  say, 
'Tis  dearer  far  on  earth  to  stray. 
With  heart  and  soul  by  anguish  riven. 

And  bow'd  by  poverty  and  care. 
Than  seek  at  once  your  promised  heaven. 
And  dwell  without  my  Ibved-one  there. 

Should  they  display  imbounded  sway 

O'er  all  these  kingly  regions. 
And  give  to  me  dominion  free 

O'er  lands  and  mighty  legions  ; 
My  heart  the  gift  would  treasure. 
To  rule  them  all  at  pleasure^ 
Not  for  riches,  nor  for  land. 
Not  for  station,  nor  command. 
Nor  for  sceptres,  crowns,  nor  power. 

Nor  for  all  the  world  is  worth, — 
But  that  I  on  thee  might  shower 

Every  gift  from  heaven  or  earth. 

1  would  decree  that  all  should  be 

Observant  to  revere  thee. 
With  bended  knee,  submissively. 

Though  princes — kings — stood  near  thee. 


96  GERBllAND  BREDERODE.  [1585- 

Courts  should  their  glories  lend  thee. 
And  empresses  attend  thee. 
And  queens  upon  thy  steps  should  wait. 
And  pay  their  tribute  to  thy  state 
In  low  and  humble  duty; 

And  place  thee  on  a  royal  seat, 
Deck'd,  as  well  becomes  thy  beauty, 
With  splendour  and  adornment  meet. 


An  ivory  throne  should  be  thine  own. 

With  ornaments  the  rarest ; 
A  cloth  of  red  thy  floor  o'erspread. 

To  kiss  thy  footsteps,  fairest ! 

And  sweetest  flowers  be  wreathing. 
And  round  thee  fondly  breathing; 
And  by  thy  influence  I  would  prove 
How  I  esteem  thy  virtues,  love  ! 
How  thy  truth  and  goodness  sway'd  me. 

More  than  all  my  store  of  gold, 
More  than  thousands  that  obey'd  me. 

More  than  the  giant  world  could  hold. 

But  these  I  know  thou  canst  forgo. 
For  pride  has  never  found  thee. 

And  I  possess  more  wealthiness 
Than  all  the  courtiers  round  me. 


-1618.]  GERBRAND  BREDERODE.  97 

If  riches  they  inherit, 

I  have  them  too — in  spirit : 

And  thou  dost  know  as  well  as  I, 

That  truer  greatness  deigns  to  lie 

'Neath  a  garment  worn  and  tatter'd. 

Than  e'er  adorn'd  a  narrow  mind  j 
And  that  treasures  oft  are  scatter'd 

For  the  basest  of  our  kind. 


Adieu  schoonbeden  preuts  vol  sachte  tooveryen. 

Groote  Bron  der  Minnen,  p.  47. 

Adieu  !  thou  proud  but  lovely  one,  whose  all-surpass- 
ing charms 

Allured  me  on  to  hope  for  rest  and  bliss  within  thine 
arms; 

No  feign'd,  no  fickle  love  is  mine — by  dying  thou 
shalt  see 

I  rather  bear  the  shock  of  death  than  parting's  misery. 

Adieu  !  the  heavenly  lineaments  that  cause  my  swift 

decay ; 
My  tears  have  gush'd,  my  tears  have  flow'd,  to  wash 

love's  stain  away  j 

r 


98  GERBRAND  BREDERODE.  [1585- 

The  ungrateful  drops  desert  me  now ;  but  sorrow  will 

not  fly ; 
Yet,  since  thou  wishest  death  to  me,  'twill  be  a  joy 

to  die. 

Adieu !  thou  fragrant  blushing  mouth,  within  whose 

ruby  cell 
Two  rows  of  fair  inhabitants  in  pearly  whiteness  dwell. 
Whence  issue  notes  of  blissfulness,  whilst  mine  are  of 

despair, — 
Which  makes  me  feel  this  last  farewell  more  hard  than 

death  to  bear. 

Adieu  !  the  fairy  hands,  that  bound  with  bonds  which 

could  not  sever. 
My  hands  and  heart,  and  life  and  soul,  and  speech 

and  thought  for  ever  : 
For  these  I  gave  to  slavery's  chains,  when  I  was  blest 

and  free. 
And  thus  I  yield,  with  this  adieu,  my  life  itself  to  thee. 

Adieu !  the  soft  bewitching  voice,  that  feelingly  imparts 
A  joyous  sense  of  ecstasy  to  cold  and  joyless  hearts. 
Ah  !  how  could  passion  fond  as  mine  so  unrelenting 

prove. 
That  I  should  rather  sigh  for  death  than  part  with  her 

I  love  ? 


-1618.]  GERBRAND  BREDERODE.  99 

Adieu  !  the  graceful  ivory  neck,  more  fair  than  win- 

ters  snow ; 
Since  I  must  perish  in  my  youth,  some  pity  yet  bestow. 
And  sepulchre  beneath  thy  breast  the  heart  so  keenly 

tried. 
Then  thou  wilt  know  how  tranquilly — how  blissfully 

I  died. 


Al  ben  ic  schoo  LieQe  niet  machdg  rijck. 

BoerHgh  Liedt-Boeck,  p.  108. 

Though  treasures  unbounded  are  not  my  share 
1  still  am  as  rich  as  others  are  j 

I  care  not  for  gold, 

I  care  not  for  gold. 
The  mind  may  the  choicest  of  treasures  hold. 

I  leave  to  the  miser  his  joyless  hoards. 

To  Ambition  the  bliss  that  command  affords. 

And  ask  not,  my  fair ! 

And  ask  not,  my  fair ! 
King's  sceptre,  or  robes,  or  crown  to  bear. 

For  peace  and  the  noblest  enjoyments  dwell 

In  the  breast  which  contentment  has  made  its  cell. 

And  not  in  vain  wealth. 

And  not  in  vain  wealth. 
Which  cheats  its  master  of  rest  by  stealth. 
f2 


100  GERBRAND  BREDERODE. 

And  therefore  my  dearest  pleasure  1  find. 
Sweet  girl !  in  the  charms  of  thy  lovely  mind. 

And  thy  matchless  soul. 

And  thy  matchless  soul. 
Which  bends  the  world  to  its  bright  control. 


EPIGRAM. 

Wist  een  dvvaes,  dat  hij  waer  zot. 

Could  fools  but  feel  their  want  of  sense. 
And  strive  to  earn  intelligence. 
They  would  be  wiser  for  their  pains ; 
But  'tis  the  bane  of  folly  ever 
To  think  itself  supremely  clever, — 
And  thus  the  fool  a  fool  remains. 


DANIEL  HEINS. 


BORN  1580 DIED  1655. 


Hij  dringt  zijn  toonen  door,  bij  elk  geslacht  lierboren, 
Tot  ieder  volk,  tot  elken  tijd. 

TOLLENS. 


DANIEL  HEINS. 


J-^ANiEL  Heinsius  wos  bom  at  Ghent  about  the  year 
1580.  He  studied  at  Middelburg,  Franeker,  and 
Leyden,  in  which  last  place  he  afterwards  was  chosen 
professor.  He  became  also  historian  to  the  king  of 
Sweden,  received  from  the  Venetians  the  order  of 
St,  Mark,  and  was  secretary  to  the  Synod  at  Dordt. 
He  is  justly  celebrated  both  for  his  Dutch  and  Latin 
poetry. 

His  Ode  De  Contemptu  Mortis  has  an  European 
reputation,  and  his  "  Song  to  Bacchus,"  written  in  the 
spirit  and  the  style  of  the  hymns  of  ancient  poetry,  is 
a  purely  classical  production.  There  is  more  of  ele- 
gance, however,  than  of  energy  in  his  writings.  In 
Scriverius'  collection  of  Dutch  Poemata  is  a  Hymn  to 
Jesus  Christ  which  merits  distinction. 


Aldaar  de  Hemel  streckt  en  daer  de  Wolcken  drijven. 

Whbbe'ek  the  free  clouds  rove,  or  heaven  extends. 
Our  dwellings  shall  be  blest, — while  on  our  friends 


104  DANIEL  HEINS. 

No  slavery-fetters  hang, — that  land  's  our  own 
Where  freedom  reigns  and  fetters  are  unknown. 
The  bird  may  cleave  with  joyous  wing  the  air. 
The  steed  o'er  moor  and  plain  his  rider  bear. 
The  mule  beneath  his  charge  may  patient  be  ; 
But  man  was  born, — was  born  for  liberty. 


KASPER  VAN  BAERLE. 


BORN  1584 — DIED   1648. 


p5 


Een  Geleerde,  die,  door  smaak  en  liefde  tot  Zanggodinnen 

gedreven,    lust  tot  de  letteren  overal  verspreidde,   en,  mijns 

oordeels,  niet  minder  nut  gedaan  heeft,  dan  zijn  meer  diepge- 

leerde  ambtgenoot  Vossius. 

Jeromiho  de  Vries. 


KASPER  VAN  BAERLE. 


IVasper  van  Babble  (better  known  by  the  name  of 
GASPARDUsBARLiEus),  although  not  so  deeply-learned 
as  Heinsius,  contributed  greatly  to  aid  the  progress 
of  literature  in  Holland.  He  possessed,  too,  amiable 
feelings,  nobleness  of  character,  and  a  highly-culti- 
vated mind.  Like  Heinsius,  he  devoted  himself  more 
to  the  composition  of  Latin  than  of  Dutch  poetry ;  but 
in  the  latter  he  was  by  no  means  unsuccessful,  in  a 
company  of  friends,  where  Tesselschade  Visscher 
surprised  them  with  a  curiously-wreathed  festoon  of 
harvest  flowers,  he  thanked  her  with  the  following 

IMPROMPTU. 

Geluckige  Sale,  daer  *t  Weentjen  in  spoockt. 

Blest  chamber,  fair  haunt  of  the  soul-winning  maid. 
Where  cares  never  enter  nor  sorrows  invade  ! 
Oh  !  who  o'er  thy  circle  such  magic  has  flung. 
And  makes  thee  so  fragrant,  and  lovely,  and  young  ? 
Has  Flora  descended  from  Juno's  gay  court  ? 
Does  Pales — does  Ceres  too,  hither  resort  ? 
Did  Hebe  this  bright  summer  garland  enwreathe — 
This  garland,  whose  blossoms  such  fragrancy  breathe  ? 


108  KASPER  VAN  BAERLE. 

Has  Pomona  here  blended,  with  exquisite  power. 

The  green  of  the  leaf  and  the  red  of  the  flower  ? 

No  !  they  were  nor  by  gods  nor  by  goddesses  found  ; 

Who  meet  in  a  circle  and  whisper  around^ 

"  We  must  cherish  the  growth  of  a  garland,  entwin'd 

By  one  who  sways  envy  itself  with  her  mind." 

"  I  see,"  exclaim'd  Ceres,  "  my  stalk  and  my  corn  j" 

"  I  hear,"  said  Pomona,  "  my  leaves  gently  mourn  :" 

"  I  scent,"  echoed  Flora,  "  the  flower  I  love  best. 

That  draws  from  the  east  the  bright  sun  to  the  west." 

"  I  feel,"  cried  Juventa,  "  my  apples  are  round/' 

"  1  taste,"  exclaim'd  Pales,  "  my  plums  are  all  sound  ;" 

"  It  is  Tessela's  wreath,"  says  the  poet — "  'tis  her's, 

Who  on  age,  youth  and  greenness  and  beauty  confers." 

Fair  Tessela  !  thee  may  the  gods  cherish  still. 
Who  all  the  five  senses  canst  charm  at  thy  will. 


BAKL^^rs  has  the  following  curious  passage  on  the 
language  of  Holland : 

"  What  then  do  we  Netherlanders  speak  ?  Words 
from  a  foreign  tongue  :  we  are  but  a  collected  crowd, 
of  feline  origin,  driven  by  a  strange  fatality  to  these 
mouths  of  the  Rhine.  Why,  since  the  mighty  de- 
scendants of  Romulus  here  pitched  their  tents,  choose 
we  not  rather  the  holy  language  of  the  Romans?" 


HUIG  DE  GROOT. 


BOEN  1583 — DIED  1645. 


O  Delf  benij  geen  Maas  den  grooten  Rotterdammer, 

De  Groot  is  ruim  zoo  groot.   Dees  poogde  Hollands  jammer ; 

Te  stuiten  door  zijn  raadt:  maar  tweedragts  oor  bleef  doof, 

Men  scheurde  veel  te  Hcht  cm  liefdeloos  geloof. 

Indien  zijn  Fenixgeest  verdeelt  waar  onder  zeven, 

't  Vereenigt  Nederlandt  waar  onverdeelt  gebleven, 

G.  Brandt. 


HUIG  DE  GROOT. 


IjLuio  de  Groot  (commonly  known  by  the  name  of 
HuooGbotius)  was  born  at  Delft  on  the  10th  of  April, 
1583.  When  he  was  only  fifteen  years  old,  Henry 
the  Fourth  called  him  the  wonder  of  Holland :  at 
eighteen  he  obtained,  as  a  Latin  poet,  a  distinguished 
reputation.  Of  his  classical  attainments  and  general 
knowledge  we  need  scarcely  speak  ;  they  are  every 
where  felt  and  allowed.  His  very  name  calls  up  all 
that  the  imagination  can  conceive  of  greatness  and 
true  fame.  His  most  elaborate  poem  in  the  Dutch 
language  Bewijs  van  den  waeren  Godtsdienst  (Evi- 
dence of  the  true  Religion)  was  written  during  his 
confinement  at  Loevestijn,  in  the  year  1611.  He  laid 
the  groundwork  of  that  attention  to  religious  duties 
which  is  so  universal  in  Holland.  The  authority  of 
his  great  name  always  associated  with  Christianity — 
with  peace — with  literature — with  freedom  and  suffer- 
ing and  virtue— has  ever  been  a  bulwark  of  truth 
and  morals.  Holland  is  at  this  moment  disturbed  by 
a  renewal  of  the  controversy  in  which  Gkotius  and 
Barneveldt  took  the  leading  partj  and  it  would 
seem  as  if  the  better  cause  had  the  weaker  advocates. 
The  modest  epitaph  which  Grotius  wrote  for  himself 
covers  his  remains  at  Delft : 


112  HUIG  DE  GROOT. 

Grotius  hie  Hugo  est,  Batavum  captivus  et  exul, 
Legatus  regni,  Suecia  magna,  tui. 

His  poetical  works  in  his  native  language  seem 
hardly  worthy  of  his  astonishing  reputation.  His  son 
PiETER  DE  Groot  was  a  more  successful  Dutch  poet 
than  his  illustrious  father.  A  single  specimen  may  be 
allowed  to  intrude,  if  it  were  only  that  it  is  the  pro- 
duction of  Hugo  Grotius,  It  is  the  Dedication  of 
the  religious  poem  which  we  have  mentioned. 


Neemt  niet  onwaerdig  aen  dit  werkstuk  mijner  handen. 

Receive  not  with  disdain  this  product  from  my  hand, 
O  mart  of  all  the  world  !  O  flower  of  Netherland  ! 
Fair  Holland  !  Let  this  live,  tho'  I  may  not,  with  thee  j 
My  bosom's  queen  !  I  show  e'en  now  how  fervently 
I've  loved  thee  through  all  change — thy  good  and  evil 

days — 
And  love,  and  still  will  love,  till  life  itself  decays. 
If  here  be  aught  on  which  thou  mayst  a  thought  bestow, 
Thank  Him  without  whose  aid  no  good  from  man  can 

flow. 
If  errors  meet  thy  view,  remember  kindly  then 
What  gathering  clouds  obscure  the  feeble  eyes  of  men ) 
And  rather  spare  than  blame  this  humble  work  of  mine. 
And  think  "  Alas  !  'twas  made — twas  made  at  Lou- 

vesteijn." ' 

'  Louvesteijn  was  the  place  of  confinement  whence  his  wife 
liberated  him. 


DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN. 


BORN  1586 DIED  1626. 


Mijn  ziel  vereert,  bemint  den  menschenvriend, 

Die  al  zijn  waar  geluk,  in  's  Heiland's  grootheid  vindt, 

Bellamt. 


DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN. 


DiKK  Rafael  Kamphuyzen  was  born  at  Gorkum  in 
158C.  While  at  the  university  of  Leyden,  he  re- 
ceived instruction  from  the  renowned  Arminius,  whose 
doctrines  he  embraced.  He  wrote  "  Edifying  Poems," 
and  a  "  Paraphrase  of  the  Psalms,"  and  died  9th  July 
1626,  after  having  suflFered  severe  privations  and  ba- 
nishment. 

Kamphuvzen's  religious  poetry  is  superior  to  any 
which  preceded  it.  There  is  a  pure  and  earnest  feel- 
ing throughout — an  intense  conviction  of  truth,  and 
an  elevated  devotion. — His  May-Morning  is  one  of  the 
most  popular  productions  of  the  Dutch  poets ;  its  har- 
monious versification  and  its  simplicity  have  made  it 
the  common  source  of  consolation  in  distress.  A  line 
in  his  Speelsmate  (Playmate)  is  also  habitually  quoted : 

'Tis  wel  goedheyts  fonteyn^  'tis  wel  al  wat  gy  doet 
Fountain  of  goodness  Thou — and  all  Thou  dost  is  weU. 


116  DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN.        [1586- 

Gy  die  uyt  's  werelds  droom  ontwaakt. 

Ye  who  from  worldly  dreams  awake. 
And  tliat  bright  path  of  glory  take, 
Which  leads,  O  God !  to  light  and  Thee, 
By  patience  and  true  piety  ; 
And  to  th'  inheritance  which  is 
Eternity  of  life  and  bliss  : 
Ye  fainting  souls,  who  onward  tend. 
And  strive — but  not  unto  the  end. 

Accept  this  verse,  and  deign  to  scan 
The  precepts  of  your  fellow-man  ; — 
Precepts  whose  influence  well  might  sway 
Your  every  act  in  Virtue's  way. 
And  help  through  life's  irriguous  course 
Those  precepts  of  sublimer  force. 
Deduced  from  God's  unerring  word. 
That  oft,  yet  ne'er  too  oft,  is  heard. 

What  spur  requires  the  willing  steed  ? 
The  docile  no  incitement  need  : 
The  purest  is  the  mightiest  fire. 
And  flames,  when  stirr'd,  to  heaven  aspire. 
The  counsel 's  good  that  warns  from  ill : 
If  good  it  plant — 'tis  better  still. 
Great  though  the  soul's  endowments  be. 
The  soul  knows  no  satiety. 


-1626.]       DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN.  117 

A  knowledge  of  God's  holy  Son 

Has  taught  you  worldly  thoughts  to  shun  : 

The  sin,  to  which  your  hearts  were  tied. 

And,  by  a  stubborn  will,  allied. 

Your  souls  reject  with  grief  and  shame — 

Yes  !  shudder  at  the  very  name  ; 

And  see  its  baneful  venom  stain 

Your  fellow-men — with  silent  pain. 

Ye  Folly's  heav)'  chain  have  broke. 
And  wear  Religion's  milder  yoke  5 
And  ye  have  left  the  giddy  way. 
Where  ye  were  idly  wont  to  stray  ; 
And  now  no  longer  seek  to  ken 
The  blinded  path  of  blinded  men ; 
But  seize  with  willing  hand  the  plough  : 
'Tis  much — yet  not  enough  I  trow. 

'Tis  not  enough  in  life's  steep  track. 
Where  halting  is  but  going  back  j 
Where  virtue  still  must  virtue  lead. 
And  quickly  stop  unless  it  speed  : 
Where  soul  and  body  must  be  clean 
Of  every  stain  and  every  sin  : 
So  virtuous  zeal  shall  claim  renown. 
While  perseverance  wins  the  crown. 


118  DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN.       [1586- 

The  stubborn  will  must  be  subdued. 
Lest  it  should  lead  us  far  from  good  : 
Self-love  engenders  tardiness. 
And  courage  flies  from  keen  distress  : 
Dejection  makes  us  tardier  still, 
And  thus  (for  ill 's  the  step  to  ill) 
The  dreamer  still  dreams  on — and  all 
Who  stumble  on  their  journey,  fall. 

We  slide  from  good  to  ill  at  first. 
From  ill  to  worse — from  worse  to  worst : 
So  good  to  good  will  lead  the  way — 
One  virtue  is  another's  stay  : 
Politeness  flows  from  nurtured  sense ; 
From  active  deeds — experience; 
Experience  virtuous  firmness  lends. 
And  virtuous  firmness  bliss  attends ; — 

This  bliss  a  nearer  taste  can  give 
Of  pleasures  that  for  ever  live  ; 
The  nearer  taste,  a  stronger  flight 
Towards  a  life  of  endless  light ; 
The  stronger  flight,  a  nobler  deed, 
A  new  attempt,  increasing  speed. 
And  (spite  of  evil-fortune's  blast) 
A  brave  endurance  to  the  last. 


-1626.]       DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN.  119 

Here  many  a  lesson  is  convey'd. 
That,  being  for  the  godless  made. 
Ne'er  touches  those  to  good  inclin'd. 
Yet  still  may  fix  the  virtuous  mind : 
All  that  renown  to  truth  imparts 
Is  changeless  joy  to  pious  hearts  j 
And  whatsoever  truth  displays. 
Contributes  to  its  fame  and  praise. 


MAY-MORNING. 

Wat  is  de  Meester  wijs  en  goed. 

What  love,  what  wisdom  God  displays 

On  earth  and  sea  and  sky. 
Where  all  that  fades  and  all  that  stays 

Proclaim  his  majesty ! 

He  o'er  the  world — by  day,  by  night — 
Still  watches  and  still  wakes  ; 

And,  kindly  varying  each  delight. 
The  sweet  yet  sweeter  makes. 

Now  barren  Winter  flies  the  globe. 
And  Spring  resumes  her  reign  ; 

And  Earth  casts  down  her  gloomy  robe. 
And  Joy  laughs  out  again. 


120  DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN.     '[1586- 

And  Nature  wears  her  fairer  dress 

Where  Winter  lately  frown'd. 
While  the  Creator's  loveliness 

Bursts  through  the  clouds  around. 

'Tis  May  !  whose  fragrant  breath  and  dyes 

So  far  o'er  earth  are  gone, 
That  memory  all  her  charms  supplies. 

Ere  she  herself  comes  on. 

'Tis  May  !  that  loveliest  of  the  year. 

Who  with  fresh  beauty  glows  ; 
The  air  is  sweet,  the  sun  beams  clear. 

The  wished-for  zephyr  blows. 

At  peaceful  night  the  gentle  dew 

Descends  on  field  and  wood. 
While  nature  smiles  serenely  through. 

In  silent  gratitude. 

The  earth  with  varied  flowers  is  dight. 

The  bees  with  honey  pass. 
The  larks  chirp  gaily  and  alight 

Upon  the  new-born  grass. 

The  bud  its  infant  blossom  yields. 

The  tree  its  leaves  displays. 
While  on  the  crimson  clover  fields 

The  tranquil  cattle  graze. 


-1626.]      DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN.  121 

The  busy  insect  tribes  are  blest. 
And  murmuring  thoughts  are  still. 

Save  man's — whose  bosom  knows  no  rest — • 
A  slave  to  stubborn  will. 

Yes !  man, — in  whom  few  virtues  glow. 

On  guilty  pleasures  bent. 

To  others  and  himself  a  foe, — 

Destroys  his  own  content. 

To  life — vain  life,  which  quickly  ends. 

As  Autumn's  withering  leaf. 
And  of  itself  to  sorrow  tends. 

He  adds  ideal  grief. 

The  ox  is  slaughter'd — slight  the  thrills 

That  wait  his  parting  breath  j 
But  man,  by  self-inflicted  ills. 

Dies  many  times  ere  death. 

Oh  !  blest  would  be  through  every  stage 

Man's  fleeting  life  on  earth. 
Were  he,  when  stain'd  with  vice,  more  sage — 

Had  he,  when  sage,  more  worth. 

Ah !  were  the  human  race  but  wise. 

And  would  they  reason  well. 
That  earth  would  be  a  paradise — 

Which  folly  makes  a  hell. 


122  DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN.       [1586- 

PSALM  CXXXIII. 

Heeft  yemand  lust  sijn  oogen  te  vermeyden. 

If  there  be  one  whose  thoughts  delight  to  wander 
In  pleasure's  fields,  where  love's  bright  streams  mean- 
der} 

If  there  be  one  who  longs  to  find 
Where  all  the  purer  blisses  are  enshrin'd, — 
A  happy  resting-place  of  virtuous  worth, — 

A  blessed  Paradise  on  earth, — 

Let  him  survey  the  joy-conferring  union 

Of  brothers  who  are  bound  in  fond  communion. 

And  not  by  force  of  blood  alone. 
But  by  their  mutual  sympathies  are  known. 
And  every  heart  and  every  mind  relies 

Upon  fraternal  kindred  ties. 

Oh  !  blest  abode,  where  love  is  ever  vernal. 
Where  tranquil  peace  and  concord  are  eternal. 

Where  none  usurp  the  highest  claim. 
But  each  with  pride  asserts  the  other's  fame ; 
Oh !  what  are  all  earth's  joys  compared  to  thee — 

Fraternal  unanimity  ? 


-1626.]      DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN.  123 

E'en  as  the  ointment  whose  sweet  odours  blended 
From  Aaron's  head  upon  his  beard  descended ; 

Which  hung  awhile  in  fragrance  there. 
Bedewing  every  individual  hair. 
And  falling  thence,  with  rich  perfume  ran  o'er 

The  holy  garb  the  prophet  wore  : 

So  doth  the  unity  that  lives  with  brothers 
Share  its  best  blessings  and  its  joys  with  others. 

And  makes  them  seem  as  if  one  frame 
Contain'd  their  minds,  and  they  were  form'd  the  same. 
And  spreads  its  sweetest  breath  o'er  every  part. 

Until  it  penetrates  the  heart. 

E'en  as  the  dew,  that  at  the  break  of  morning 
All  nature  with  its  beauty  is  adorning. 

And  flows  from  Hermon  calm  and  still. 
And  bathes  the  tender  grass  on  Zion's  hill. 
And  to  the  young  and  withering  herb  resig^ns 

The  drops  for  which  it  pines : 

So  are  fraternal  peace  and  concord  ever 
The  cherishers,  without  whose  guidance  never 

Would  sainted  quiet  seek  the  breast — 
The  life,  the  soul  of  unmolested  rest  j 
The  antidote  to  sorrow  and  distress. 

And  prop  of  human  happiness. 
o2 


124  DIRK  RAFAEL  KAMPHUYZEN. 

Ah !  happy  they  whom  genial  concord  blesses  : 
Pleasure  for  them  reserves  her  fond  caresses. 

And  joys  to  mark  the  fabric  rare. 
On  virtue  founded,  stand  unshaken  there  ; 
Whence  vanish  all  the  passions  that  destroy 

Tranquillity  and  inward  joy. 

Who  practise  good  are  in  themselves  rewarded. 
For  their  own  deeds  lie  in  their  hearts  recorded ; 

And  thus  fraternal  love,  when  bound 
By  virtue,  is  with  its  own  blisses  crown'd. 
And  tastes  in  sweetness  that  itself  bestows. 

What  use,  what  power  from  concord  flows. 

God  in  his  boundless  mercy  joys  to  meet  it ; 
His  promises  of  future  blessings  greet  it. 

And  fixt  prosperity,  which  brings 
Long  life,  and  ease,  beneath  its  shadowing  wings. 
And  joy  and  fortune — that  remain  sublime 

Beyond  all  distance,  change,  and  time. 


JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL. 


BORN  1587 DIED  1679. 


Yondeli !  Batavse  deciis  et  laus  prima  camoense ! 
Fontis  inexbaustum  flumen  Appollinei. 


Ja,  hier,  hier  worde  uw  roem  verheven 

Bataafsche  Maro  en  Pindaar ! 
Hier,  waar  door  't  edelst  vuxxr  gedreven 

Ben  vaderlandsche  dichtrenschaar 
Hunne  offers  voor  Apol  doet  branden 
Zijn  tempel,  met  vereende  handen 

Bij  Batoos  neven  grootscher  sticht ; 
Daar  aller  glans  bij  uwen  luister 
O  Neerlands  zon !  verzinkt  in  't  duister 

Gelijk  de  maan  bij  Febus  licht. 


Barl^us. 


SlE6£NBE£K. 


Zie  VoNSEL,  de  eer  van  Neerlands  streken 

Verheven,  edel,  grootsch  en  stout. 
Op  de  oever  van  zijn  graf,  hier  smeken 

Met  ongedekten  hoofd  om  't  sober  onderhoud. 

Anon. 


JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL. 


J  oosT  VAN  DEN  VoNDEL  WES  bom  at  Keulcii  in  1587, 
but  was  removed  in  infancy  to  Amsterdam  by  his  pa- 
rents. At  the  early  age  of  13  he  is  said  to  have  been 
flatteringly  noticed  by  Hooft.  His  education,  how- 
ever, was  much  neglected,  as  he  did  not  commence  a 
course  of  study  until  he  was  more  than  twenty-six 
years  of  age :  but  his  perseverance  and  inexhaustible 
application  surmounted  every  difficulty  j  and  by  as- 
sociating with  such  men  as  Vossius  and  Barl^us, 
HooFT  and  Gbotius,  he  improved  himself  not  only 
in  the  manner  of  expressing  his  thoughts,  but  even 
in  the  action  of  thinking.  He  acquired  a  very  ex- 
tensive general  knowledge,  and  as  a  poet  has  never 
been  rivalled  in  Holland.  His  Tragedies  are,  per- 
haps, the  grandest  specimens  of  Dutch  literature. 
His  Satires  are  indicative  of  the  period  in  which  he 
lived — full  of  force  and  energy  and  spirit,  wathout  that 
delicacy  of  expression  which  the  refinement  of  the  pre- 
sent day  exacts.  His  Epigrams  have  a  similar  cha- 
racter. His  "  Lucifer"  is  the  most  splendid  and  in- 
spired poem  in  the  language,  and  has  often  been  com- 
pared with  our  Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  • 

'  See  an  interesting  paper  in  Siegenbeek's  Museum,  entitled 
•'  Vergelijking  van  Vondel  en  Milton." 


128  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

Vondel's  character  was  deeply  imbued  with  reli- 
gious enthusiasm.  From  the  Bible  he  took  almost  all 
the  subjects  of  his  tragedies  :  yet  his  mind  had  little 
fixedness  of  principle.  He  wrote  eagerly  in  favour  of 
Arminianism ;  and  afterwards,  like  many  a  continental 
poet,  embraced  Catholicism,  and  became  the  zealous 
advocate  of  the  papal  usurpation.  His  sincerity  can- 
not be  suspected;  nor  let  it  be  forgotten  that  the 
gorgeous  machinery  of  the  church  of  Rome  has  some- 
thing wherewith  to  awe  and  much  wherewith  to  at- 
tract the  imagination  of  the  enthusiast. 


CHORUS. 
Waer  wert  oprechter  trou. 
(From  the  Gysbrecht  van  Aemstel.) 
What  sweeter  brighter  bliss 
Can  charm  a  world  like  this. 
Than  sympathy's  communion ; 
Two  spirits  mingling  in  their  purest  glow. 
And  bound  in  firmest  union 
In  love,  joy,  woe  ! 

The  heart-encircling  bond. 
Which  binds  the  mother  fond 
To  the  sweet  child,  that  sleepeth 
Upon  the  bosom  whence  he  drinks  his  food — 
So  close  around  that  heart  his  spirit  creepeth- 
It  binds  the  blood. 


-1679.]    JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.        129 

But  there  's  a  firmer  band. 
When  mortals  hand  in  hand. 
Whom  joy  nor  grief  can  sever. 
Tread  the  long  paths  of  years  secure. 
Led  on  by  sacred  peace  and  virtue  ever 
As  nature  pure. 

'Tis  then  that  love's  control 
Commingles  soul  with  soul. 
Spirit  to  spirit  gathers 
A  love  that 's  stronger  even  than  fate, — 

'Tis  like  an  effluence  from  the  eternal  Father's, 
So  bright — so  great ! 

^  It  cannot  be  subdued. 

It  is  the  noblest  good 
That  nature's  hand  has  given  : 
'Tis  like  a  well-cemented  wall 

That  boldly  rears  its  front  to  heaven. 
And  suffers  all. 

If  thou  have  seen  the  love 
Of  the  fond  turtle  dove. 
On  the  dry  branch  bewailing 
Her  absent  mate  in  mournful  song, 
Pouring  her  sorrow  unavailing 
Her  whole  life  long  : — 
o5 


130  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

So  Aemstel's  fair — She  stood 
And  melted  like  a  flood 
To  tears  j — her  race  was  scatter'd. 
Her  subjects  and  her  city  razed. 
And  all  in  blood  and  darkness  shatter'd. 
E'en  while  she  gazed. 

O  God  !  disperse  the  gloom. 
Lead  her  tired  spirit  home 
From  this  dark  path  of  sadness  j 
For  hope  and  peace  stretch  out  their  hands. 
And  bid  her  look  in  joy  and  gladness 
Where  Aemstel  stands. 


CHORUS  OF  ANGELS. 

Wie  is  het,  die  soo  hoogh  gezeten. 
(From  Lucifer.) 

Who  sits  above  heaven's  heights  sublime, 

Yet  fills  the  grave's  profoundest  place. 
Beyond  eternity,  or  time. 

Or  the  vast  round  of  viewless  space  : 
Who  on  Himself  alone  depends — 

Immortal — ^glorious — ^but  unseen— 
And  in  His  mighty  being  blends 

What  rolls  around  or  flows  within. 


-1679.]    JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.        131 

Of  all  we  know  not — all  we  know — 

Prime  source  and  origin — a  sea. 
Whose  waters  pour'd  on  earth  below 

Wake  blessing's  brightest  radiancy. 
His  power — love — wisdom,  first  exalted 

And  waken'd  from  oblivion's  birth 
Yon  starry  arch — yon  palace,  vaulted — 

Yon  heaven  of  heavens — to  smile  on  earth. 
From  His  resplendent  majesty 

We  shade  us  'neath  our  sheltering  wings. 
While  awe-inspired  and  tremblingly 

We  praise  the  glorioas  King  of  kings. 
With  sight  and  sense  confused  and  dim  j 

O  name — describe  the  Lord  of  lords. 
The  seraphs'  praise  shall  hallow  Him  j — 

Or  is  the  theme  too  vast  for  words  ? 

RESPONSE. 

Th  God  !  who  pours  the  living  glow 

Of  light,  creation's  fountain-head : 
Forgive  the  praise — too  mean  and  low — 

Or  from  the  living  or  the  dead. 

No  tongue  Thy  peerless  name  hath  spoken. 
No  space  can  hold  that  awful  name  ; 

The  aspiring  spirit's  wing  is  broken  j — 
Thou  wilt  be,  wert,  and  art  the  same  ! 


132  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587— 

Language  is  dumb — Imagination, 

Knowledge,  and  Science,  helpless  fall  j 
They  are  irreverent  profanation. 

And  thou,  O  God  !  art  all  in  all. 
How  vain  on  such  a  thought  to  dwell ! 

Who  knows  Thee — Thee  the  All-unknown  ? 
Can  angels  be  thy  oracle. 

Who  art — who  art  Thyself  alone  ? 
None — none  can  trace  Thy  course  sublime. 

For  none  can  catch  a  ray  from  Thee, 
The  splendour  and  the  source  of  time — 

The  Eternal  of  eternity. 
Thy  light  of  light  out-pour'd  conveys 

Salvation  in  its  flight  elysian. 
Brighter  than  e'en  Thy  mercy's  rays  ; — 

But  vainly  would  our  feeble  vision 
Aspire  to  Thee.     From  day  to  day 

Age  steals  on  us — but  meets  Thee  never : 
Thy  power  is  life's  support  and  stay — 

We  praise  Thee — sing  Thee,  Lord  !  for  ever. 
Holy — holy — holy  !  Praise — 

Praise  be  His  in  every  land ; 
Safety  in  His  presence  stays — 

Sacred  is  His  high  command  ! 


-1679.]    JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.        133 

ADAM  AND  EVES  ALTERNATE  HYMN. 

(From  the  Tragedy  of  Adam  in  Banishment.) 

Daer  rijst  het  alverquickend  licht 

ADAM. 

The  all-quickening  light  is  rolling  there. 

Which  bids  the  shadowy  forms  emerge 

From  yon  horizon's  furthest  verge. 
And  flit  across  earth's  bosom  fair  : 
The  song  of  birds  salutes  the  day — 

A  song  whose  chorus  soars  to  Him 

Who  pours  on  all  his  blessing's  beam. 
And  wakes  the  universal  lay. 
Come,  let  us  join  that  choral  song ; 

Come,  let  our  voices  blend  with  theirs  ; 

And  as  their  praises  float  along 
We'll  pour  the  incense  of  our  prayers. 
I'll  lead  the  grateful  hymn,  my  love  ! 

And  thou  a  sweeter  strain  shall  bring ; 

How  shall  we  celebrate — how  sing 
The  Spirit  blest  that  reigns  above  ! 

£V£. 

Yes  !  Let  us  sing  of  God — the  spring. 

The  source  of  all  we  feel  and  see ; 

What  theme  can  be  so  blest  as  He- 
Director — li/e-sustdiner — king  ! 


IS*  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

Lift,  lift,  my  love !  thy  thoughts  on  high  ; 
I'll  follow  their  sublimest  flight. 
And  hill  and  wood  and  valley  bright 

Shall  to  the  joyous  hymn  reply. 

ADAM. 

O  Father  !  we  approach  Thy  throne. 

Who  bidd'st  the  glorious  sun  arise  : 

All-good,  Almighty,  and  All-wise  ! 
Great  source  of  all  things — God  alone  ! 
We  see  Thee,  brighter  than  the  rays 

Of  the  bright  sun :  we  see  Thee  shine. 

As  in  a  fountain's  face — divine  j 
We  see  Thee — endless  fount  of  days  : 
We  see  Thee,  who  our  frames  hast  brought. 

With  one  swift  word,  from  senseless  clay — 

Waked — with  one  glance  of  heavenly  ray, 
Our  never-dying  souls  from  nought. 
Those  souls  Thou  lightedst  with  the  spark 

Of  Thy  pure  fire — and  gracious  still — 

Gav'st  immortality — free  will. 
And  language — not  involved,  nor  dark. 

EVE. 

God — God  be  praised !  who  form'd  us  thus  , 
He  was,  and  is,  and  shall  endure  : 
Pure — He  shall  make  all  nature  pure, 

And  fix  his  dwelling  here  with  us. 


-1679.]  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  135 

What  sweeter  thought — what  stronger  token 

Than  that  his  everlasting  hand 

Body  and  soul  in  holy  band 
Hath  bound — that  never  shall  be  broken  ! 

ADAM. 

'Tis  He  whose  kind  and  generous  care 
This  lovely  garden's  range  hath  planted. 
Where  nought  that  charms  desire  is  wanted. 

And  joy 's  a  guest  immortal  here. 

The  fount  of  life — whence  waters  living 
O'erspreading  all  the  garden  flow — 
Bright  flowers  upon  their  borders  grow. 

While  to  the  trees  life's  food  they're  giving. 

Here  blooms  the  life-imparting  tree. 
Whose  fruit,  just  hid  in  silvery  leaves. 
Makes  man  a  spirit,  and  retrieves 

His  weakness  and  satiety. 

The  dews — from  morning's  vault  that  fall. 
Are  honeyed  manna  on  our  tongue  : 
Shall  not  his  hallow'd  praise  be  sung. 

Whom  nature  sings — the  Source  of  all  ? 

EVE. 

O  blest  be  He  who  blessings  pours ! 
Who  fills  the  heart  with  tenderness. 
And  with  his  richest  gifts  will  bless — 

He  wondrous — whom  our  tongue  adores. 


136        JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.     [1587- 

A  full,  o'erflowing  horn  of  good 
Upon  our  Eden  he  has  shower'd. 
And  peace  and  hope  and  joy  embower'd 

In  its  sweet  silent  solitude. 


Yes  !  now  I  feel  the  charm  divine. 
Yes  !  now  I  feel  the  bliss,  the  pride. 
To  press  thee,  dearest !  to  my  side. 

And  join  my  early  vows  to  thine. 

A  unity — in  love  cemented. 

Blest  by  thy  presence — and  by  thee 
Gilded  with  smiles  and  purity, 

May  make  my  exiled  soul  contented. 

O  sister — daughter — fairest  bride. 
What  shall  I  call  thee  ? — Paradise 
Has  million  flowers  that  smiling  rise 

To  kiss  thy  feet  well  satisfied. 

KVE. 

Love  !  one  shall  be  our  will,  and  one 
Our  fate,  from  the  first  dawn  of  day. 
When  the  bright  sun  begins  his  way, 

To  when  his  weary  course  is  done. 

Peace,  tenderness,  and  joy — a  shrine 
Sacred  to  cheerful  love — and  praise 
To  Him,  the  Lord  of  ceaseless  days. 

Who  blended  thy  fond  heart  with  mine. 


-1679.]    JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.        137 

CHRISTIAN  PATIENCE. 

't  Gekruist  gedult  vint  nergens  ste^. 

Poor  Patience  finds  no  rest,  save  where 
Wild  ocean  to  the  storm  lies  bare : 
She  sits,  with  chattering  teeth,  alone — 
Half-naked,  on  a  cold  rough  stone. 
O'er  which  the  angry  waters  spring ', 
While  tempest-clouds  their  mantles  fling 
O'er  the  faint  stars,  and  leave  no  ray 
Of  sparkling  light  to  cheer  her  way. 
Or  if  a  transient  beam  is  brightening, 
'Tis  but  the  blasting  fire  of  lightning. 
When  from  the  dark  dense  clouds  the  flash 
Heralds  the  thunder's  horrid  crash. 
Around  her,  from  the  troubled  sand. 
There  bursts  a  monstrous  flare-eyed  baad. 
That  hang  upon  the  shaken  cliffy. 
Like  ghosts — but  see  a  nearing  skiff 
Speed  o'er  the  surge — Hope  smiles  again — 
Her  course  is  changed — that  hope  was  vain. 
Yet  bore  she  seeming  friends — even  there  j 
Ah  !  cold  unloving  hearts  they  were  : 
One  pitying  cry  was  heard — "  Lay  to ! " 
Till  startled  at  the  threatening  view 
Of  death,  they  shout — "  Hold  off ! "  nor  brave 
The  dread  memento  of  the  grave  ! 


138  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

And  what  is  left  ?  for  torturing  grief 

What  stay — what  solace — what  relief  ? 

A  taintless  conscience — sole  estate 

The  spirit  owns  when  desolate. 

A  treasure  suffering  virtue  bears. 

Which  gilds  with  smiles  her  deepest  tears  j 

And,  though  no  Comfort  hails  her — none — 

Still  meekly  says — "  God's  will  be  done ! "     . 


TO  GEERAERT  VOSSIUS, 

ON  THE  LOSS  OF  HIS  SON. 
Wat  treurtge,  hooghgeleerde  Vos. 

Why  mourn'st  thou,  Vossius !  why  has  pain 
Its  furrows  to  thy  pale  brow  given  ? 
Seek  not  to  hold  thy  son  from  heaven  ! 

'Tis  heaven  that  draws — resign  him  then. 

Yes  !  banish  every  futile  tear. 

And  offer  to  its  Source  above^ 

In  gratitude  and  humble  love. 
The  choicest  of  thy  treasures  here. 

We  murmur  if  the  bark  should  strand  3 
But  not  when,  richly  laden,  she 
Comes  from  the  wild  and  raging  sea. 

Within  a  haven  safe  to  land. 


-1679.]    JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.        139 

We  murmur  if  the  balm  be  shed  j 
Yes  !  murmur  for  the  odour's  sake : 
But  not  whene'er  the  glass  may  break. 

If  that  which  fill'd  it  be  not  fled. 

He  strives  in  vain  who  seeks  to  stay 
The  bounding  waters  in  their  course. 
When  hurl'd  from  rocks  with  giant  force. 

Towards  some  calm  and  spacious  bay. 

Thus  turns  the  earthly  globe  j — though  o'er 

His  infant's  corse  a  father  mourn. 

Or  child  bedew  its  parents'  urn,— 
Death  passes  neither  house  nor  door. 

Death,  nor  for  gay  and  blooming  youth 

Nor  peevish  age,  his  stroke  defers ; 

He  chains  the  lips  of  orators. 
Nor  cares  for  wisdom,  worth,  or  truth. 

Blest  is  the  mind  that,  fix'd  and  free. 
To  wanton  pleasures  scorns  to  yield. 
And  wards,  as  with  a  pliant  shield. 

The  arrows  of  adversity. 


140  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

CHORUS. 

(From  Gyshrecht  van  ^emstel.) 
O  Kersnacht,  schooner  dan  de  dagen. 
O  Night  !  far  lovelier  than  the  day  ! 
How  can  Herodes  bear  the  ray. 

Whose  consecrated,  hallow'd  glows 
Rich  splendour  o'er  this  darkness  spread  ? 
To  reason's  call  his  pride  is  dead  3 
Her  voice  his  heart  no  longer  knows. 

By  slaughter  of  the  guiltless,  he 
Would  raise  up  guilt  and  tyranny. 

He  bids  a  loud  lament  awake 
In  Bethlehem  and  o'er  the  plain. 
And  Rachel's  spirit  rise  again. 

To  haunt  the  desolate  field  and  brake. 

Now  wandering  east,  now  wandering  west. 
For  her,  lone  mother,  where  is  rest. 

Now  that  her  children  are  no  more  ? 
Now  that  she  sees  them  blood-stain'd  lie. 
Even  at  their  births  condemn'd  to  die. 

And  swords  unnumber'd  red  with  gore  ! 

She  sees  the  milk,  no  nurture  bringing. 
Unto  their  lifeless  pale  lips  clinging. 


■1679.]         JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  141 

Torn  from  their  mother's  breast  but  late ; 
She  marks  the  stagnant  tears  reclining. 
Like  dew,  upon  their  cold  cheeks  shining — 

Poor  victims  of  a  ruthless  fate. 


The  brows  now  pallid,  dimm'd  and  fading. 
Those  closed  and  joyless  eyes  are  shading. 

Whose  rays  pure  lustre  once  had  given, 
Like  stars  3  and  with  their  playful  light. 
Ere  cover'd  with  death's  cloud  of  night, 

Transform'd  the  visage  to  a  heaven. 

Vain  are  description's  feeble  powers 
To  number  all  the  infant  flowers. 

Which  faded — died — when  scarcely  born. 
Before  their  opening  leaves  could  greet 
The  wooing  air  with  fragrance  sweet. 

Or  drink  the  earliest  dew  of  morn  ! 

So  fells  the  corn  beneath  the  sickle. 
So  shake  the  leaves,  when  tempests  fickle 
«  Awake  the  mountain's  voice  from  thrall : 
What  can  result  from  blind  Ambition, 
When  raging  with  some  dark  suspicion  ! — 
What  bard  so  vile  to  mourn  its  fall ! 


148  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

Then,  Rachel,  haunt  not  spots  once  cherish'd ; 
Thy  children  even  as  martyrs  perish'd : 

Those  first-loved  fruits  that  sprang  from  thee. 
From  which  thy  heart  was  doom'd  to  sever. 
In  praise  of  God,  shall  bloom  for  ever. 

Unhurt — untouch' d  by  tyranny. 


CHORUS. 

(From  Palamedes.) 

Het  dun  gezaeit  gestarnt  verschiet. 

The  thinly-sprinkled  stars  surrender 
To  early  da^yn  their  dying  splendour  ; 
The  shades  of  night  are  dim  and  far. 
And  now  before  the  morning-star 
The  heavenly  legions  disappear : 
The  constellation's '  charioteer 
No  longer  in  the  darkness  burns. 
But  backward  his  bright  courser  turns. 
Now  golden  Titan,  from  the  sea. 
With  azure  steeds  comes  gloriously. 
And  shines  o'er  woods  and  dells  and  downs. 
And  soaring  Ida's  leafy  crowns. 

'  Ursa  major. 


-1679.]    JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.        143 

O  sweetly-welcome  break  of  morn  ! 

Thou  dost  with  happiness  adorn 

The  heart  of  him  who  cheerily — 

Contentedly — unwearily — 

Surveys  whatever  nature  gives. 

What  beauty  in  her  presence  lives. 

And  wanders  oft  the  banks  along 

Of  some  sweet  stream  with  murmuring  song. 

Oh !  more  than  regal  is  his  lot. 

Who,  in  some  blest  secluded  spot. 

Remote  from  crowded  cares  and  fears. 

His  loved — his  cherish'd  dwelling  rears ! 

For  empty  praises  never  pining. 

His  wishes  to  his  cot  confining. 

And  listening  to  each  cheerful  bird 

Whose  animating  song  is  heard  : 

When  morning  dews,  which  zephyr's  sigh 

Has  wafted,  on  the  roses  lie. 

Whose  leaves  beneath  the  pearl-drops  bend  ; 

When  thousand  rich  perfumes  ascend. 

And  thousand  hues  adorn  the  bowers. 

And  form  a  rainbow  of  sweet  flowers. 

Or  bridal  robe  for  Iris  made 

From  every  bud  in  sun  or  shade. 

Contented  there  to  plant  or  set. 

Or  snare  the  birds  with  crafty  net ; 


144<  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1586- 

To  grasp  his  bending  rod,  and  wander 
Beside  the  banks  where  waves  meander. 
And  thence  their  fluttering  tenants  take  ; 
Or,  rising  ere  the  sun's  awake. 
Prepare  his  steed,  and  scour  the  grounds 
And  chase  the  hare  with  swift-paced  hounds  ; 
Or  ride  beneath  the  noon -tide  rays 
Through  peaceful  glens  and  silent  ways. 
Which  wind  like  Cretan  labyrinth  : 
Or  where  the  purple  hyacinth 
Is  glowing  on  its  bed  ;  or  where 
The  meads  red-speckled  daisies  bear. 
Whilst  maidens  milk  the  grazing  cow. 
And  peasants  toil  behind  the  plough. 
Or  reap  the  crops  beneath  their  feet, 
Or  sow  luxuriant  flax  or  wheat. 
Here  flourishes  the  waving  corn. 
Encircled  by  the  wounding  thorn  : 
There  glides  a  bark  by  meadows  green. 
And  there  the  village  smoke  is  seen  : 
And  there  a  castle  meets  the  view. 
Half-fading  in  the  distance  blue. 
How  hard,  how  wretched  is  his  doom 
Whom  sorrows  follow  to  the  tomb. 
And  whom,  from  morn  till  quiet  eve. 
Distresses  pain  and  troubles  grieve. 


-1679.]         JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  1 45 

And  cares  oppress ; — for  these  await 
The  slave,  who  in  a  restless  state 
Would  bid  the  form  of  concord  flee. 
And  call  his  object — liberty. 
He  finds  his  actions  all  pursued 
By  envy  or  ingratitude : — 
The  robe  is  honouring,  I  confess. 
The  cushion  has  its  stateliness  j — 
But,  oh !  they  are  a  burthen  too  ! 
And  pains  spring  up,  for  ever  new. 
Beneath  the  roof  which  errors  stain. 
And  where  the  strife  is — ^who  shall  reign. 

But  he  who  lives  in  rural  ease 
Avoids  the  cares  that  torture  these  : 
No  golden  chalices  invite 
To  quaff  the  deadly  aconite  j 
Nor  dreads  he  secret  foes,  who  lurk 
Behind  the  throne  with  coward  dirk — 
Assassin -friends — whose  murderous  blow 
Lays  all  the  pride  of  greatness  low. 
No  fears  his  even  life  annoy. 
Nor  feels  he  pride,  nor  finds  he  joy 
In  popularity — that  brings 
A  fickle  pleasure,  and  then — stingy. 
He  is  not  roused  at  night  from  bed. 
With  weary  eyes  and  giddy  head  ; 


146  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

At  morn  no  long  petitions  vex  him. 
Nor  scrutinizing  looks  perplex  him  : 
He  has  no  joy  in  others'  cares  ; 
He  bears — and  while  he  bears,  forbears ; 
And  from  the  world  he  oft  retreats 
Where  learning's  gentle  smiles  he  meets  : 
He  heeds  not  priestcraft's  ban  or  praise. 
But  scorns  the  deep  anathemas 
Which  he,  who  in  his  blindness  errs. 
Receives  from  these — God's  messengers  ! 

Near  rocks  where  danger  ever  lies. 
Through  storms  of  evil  auguries 
Proceeding  from  calumnious  throats. 
The  exhausted  Palamedes  floats  : 
And  shipwreck'd  he  must  be  at  last. 
If  Neptune  do  not  kindly  cast 
Protection  round  him,  and  appease 
With  trident-sway  these  foaming  seas. 


-1679.]  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONblfclL.  147 


CHORUS  OF  BATAVIAN  WOMEN. 


(From  the  Batavian  Brothers.) 
Geluckigh  leefden  wij. 


Ours  was  a  happy  lot. 
Ere  foreign  tyrants  brought 
The  servile  iron  yoke,  which  bound 
Our  necks  with  humbling  slavery  to  the  ground. 
Once  all  was  confidence  and  peace } — the  just 
Might  to  his  neighbour  trust : 
The  common  plough  turn'd  up  the  common  land. 
And  nature  scatter'd  joy  with  liberal  hand. 
The  humble  cot  of  clay 

Kept  the  thick  shower,  the  wind,  and  hail  away ; 
Upon  the  frugal  board 
No  luxuries  were  stored  j 
But  'neath  a  forest  tree  the  table  stood— 
A  simple  plank — unpolished  and  rude  : 
Our  feasts — the  wild  game  of  the  wood. 
And  curds  and  cheese  our  daily  food. 
Man,  in  his  early  virtues  blest. 
Slept  satisfied  on  woman's  breast. 
Who,  modest  and  confiding,  saw 
In  him  her  lord,  and  love,  and  law. 
h2 


148  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

Then  was  the  stranger  and  the  neighbour,  each. 
Welcomed  with  cordial  thoughts  and  honest  speech  j 

And  days  flow'd  cheerful  on,  as  days  should  flow — 

Unmoved  by  distant  or  domestic  woe. 

ANTISTKOPHE, 

Then  was  no  value  set  on  silver  things. 

Nor  golden  stores,  nor  coin,  nor  dazzling  rings  j 

They  barter' d  what  they  had,  for  what  they  wanted. 

And  sought  no  foreign  shores, — ^but  planted 
Their  own  low  dwellings  in  their  mother  land ; 
Raised  all  by  their  own  hand. 

And  furnisht  with  whatever  man  requires 

For  his  moderate  desires. 

They  had  no  proud  adornings — were  not  gilt 
Nor  sculptured — nor  in  crowded  cities  built  j 

But  in  wide  scatter'd  villages  they  spread 

Where  stand  no  friendly  lamps  above  the  head  : — 
Rough  and  undeckt  the  simple  cot. 
With  the  rich  show  of  pomp  encumber'd  not. 

As  when  in  decorated  piles  are  seen 

Tlie  bright  fruits  peeping  through  the  foliage  green ; 
Bark  of  the  trees  and  hides  of  cattle  cover 
The  lowly  hut  when  storms  rage  fiercely  over ; 

Man  had  not  learnt  the  use  of  stone — 

Tiles  and  cement  were  all  unknown — 


-1679.]  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  1*9 

Some  place  of  shelter  dug— dark — dreary — far, 
For  the  dread  hour  of  danger  or  of  war, — 

When  the  stray-pirate  broke  on  the  serene 

And  cheerful  quiet  of  that  early  scene. 


STUOPHE. 

No  usurer,  then,  with  avarice'  burning  thirst. 

His  fellow  men  had  curst  j 
The  coarse-wove  flax,  the  unwrought  fleece  alone. 
On  the  half-naked  sturdy  limbs  were  thrown  : 
The  daughters  married  late 
To  a  laborious  fate ; 
And  to  their  husbands  bore  a  healthy  race. 
To  take  their  fathers'  place. 

If  e'er  dispute  or  discord  dared  intrude, 

'Twas  soon,  by  wisdom's  voice,  subdued ; 
The  wisest  then  was  called  to  reign. 
The  bravest  did  the  victory  gain  : 

The  proud  were  made  to  feel 

They  must  submit  them  to  the  general  weal ; 
For  to  the  proud  and  high  a  given  way 
Was  mark'd,  that  thence  they  might  not  stray  j — 

And  thus  was  freedom  kept  alive. 

Rulers  were  taught  to  strive 
For  subjects'  happiness — and  subjects  brought 
The  cheerful  tribute  of  obedient  thought ; 


ISO  JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.  [1587- 

And  'twas  indeed  a  glorious  sight. 

To  see  them  wave  their  weapons  bright : 

No  venal  bands,  the  murderous  hordes  of  fame ; 

But  freedom's  sons — all  armed  in  freedom's  name. 


ANTISTROPHE. 

No  judge  out-dealing  justice  in  his  hate. 

Nor  in  his  favour — Wisdom's  train  sedate 
Of  books,  and  proud  philosophy, 
And  stately  speech,  could  never  needed  be. 

While  they  for  virtue's  counsellings  might  look 

On  Nature's  open  book. 
Where  bright  and  free  the  Godhead's  glory  falls  : — 
Not  on  the  imprisoning  walls 

Of  temples — for  their  temple  was  the  wood — 

The  heavens  its  arch — its  aisles  were  solitude. 
And  then  they  sang  the  praise 
Of  heroes,  and  the  seers  of  older  days  : 

They  never  dared  to  pry 

Into  the  mysteries  of  the  Deity ; 
They  never  weigh'd  His  schemes,  nor  judged  His  will — 
But  saw  his  works,  and  loved  and  praised  Him  still  3 

Obey'd  in  awe — kept  pure  their  hearts  within. 

For  this  they  knew — God  hates  and  scourges  sin  : 
Some  dreams  of  future  bliss  were  theirs. 
To  gild  their  joys  and  chase  their  cares  j 


-1679.]     JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL.       151 

And  thus  they  dwelt,  and  thus  they  died. 

With  guardian-freedom  at  their  side. 
The  happy  tenants  of  a  happy  soil — 
Till  came  the  cruel  stranger  to  despoil. 

EPOSE. 

But,  oh  !  that  blessed  time  is  past  j 

The  strangers  now  possess  our  land ; 
Batavia  is  subdued  at  last — 

Batavia  fetter'd,  ruin'd,  bann'd  ! 
Yes  !  honour,  truth  have  taken  flight 

To  seats  subliraer,  thrones  more  pure. 
Look,  Julius  !  from  thy  throne  of  light. 

See  what  thy  Holland's  sons  endure  j 
Thy  children  still  are  proud  to  claim 

Their  Roman  blood,  their  source  from  thee ; 
Friends,  brothers,  comrades  bear  the  name — 

Desert  them  not  in  misery  ! 
Terror  and  power  and  cruel  wrong 

Have  a  free  people's  bliss  undone  j 
Too  harsh  their  sway — their  rule  too  long. 

Arouse  thee  from  thy  cloudy  throne  ; 
And  if  thou  hate  disgrace  and  crime. 

Recall,  recall  departed  time. 


152        JOOST  VAN  DEN  VONDEL. 


Konstantijntje  't  zaligh  Kijntje. 

Infant  fairest — beauty  rarest — 

Who  repairest  from  above  j 
Whose  sweet  smiling,  woe-beguiling. 

Lights  us  with  a  heavenly  love. 
Mother  !  mourn  not — I  return  not — 

Wherefore  learn  not  to  be  blest  ? 
Heaven's  my  home  now,  where  I  roam  now- 

I  an  angel,  and  at  rest. 
Why  distress  thee  ?  Still  I'll  bless  thee — 

Still  caress  thee,  though  I'm  fled  j 
Cheer  life's  dullness — pour  heaven's  fullness 

Of  bright  glory  on  thy  head. 
Leave  behitid  thee  thoughts  that  bind  thee — 

Dreams  that  blind  thee  in  their  glare  : 
Look  before  thee,  round  thee,  o'er  thee— 

Heaven  invites  thee — I  am  there ! 


CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS. 


BORN  1596— DIED  1687. 


h5 


Gestoffeerde  Galerijen 
Vol  van  kunst  en  M'etenschap. 


Bloemhof  mild  van  geur, 
Rijk  door  zijn  verscheidenheden 
Van  gedaante  en  levend  kleur. 


VONDEL. 


CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS. 


v>oNSTANTUN  Hdijgens,  the  friend  of  Hooft,  Cats, 
and  VoNDEL,  secretary  to  three  princes  of  Nassau  in 
succession,  knight  and  lord  of  Zuijlichera,  and  ac- 
countant to  the  Prince  of  Orange,  was  born  at  the 
Hague  in  1596.  He  was  acquainted  with  almost  all 
the  living  as  well  as  the  dead  languages,  and  possessed 
a  fund  of  general  knowledge.  He  has  been  frequently 
compared  to  Voltaire  for  the  extent  of  his  erudition 
and  the  shrewdness  of  his  mind.  His  son  was  the  in- 
ventor of  the  pendulum. 

HuiJGENs  sometimes  condescended  to  petty  con- 
ceits.— He  had  Petrarch's  authority  : 

Rotta  e  r  alta  Colonna  e  '1  verde  Lauro. 

So  HuiJGENS,  whose  wife  was  called  Sterbe  (Star). 
My  Stae  is  clad  in  gloom, 
And  a  white  cloud  hangs  damply  on  her  cheeks. 


156  CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS.  [1596- 

A  KING. 

Hij  is  een'  menigte  besloten  in  een'  kroon. 

He  's  a  crown 'd  multitude — his  doom  is  hard  ; 

Servant  to  each,  a  slave  vi^ithout  reward  : 

The  state's  tall  roof  on  which  the  tempests  fall ; 

The  reckoning  book  that  bears  the  debts  of  all : 

He  borrows  little,  yet  is  forced  to  pay 

The  most  usurious  interest  day  by  day  : 

A  fetter'd  freeman — an  imploring  lord — 

A  ruling  suppliant — a  rhyming  word  : 

A  lightning-flash  that  breaks  all  bonds  asunder. 

And  spares  what  yields — a  cloud  that  speaks  in  thnnder : 

A  sun  in  darkness  and  in  day  that  smites, 

A  plague  that  on  the  whirlwind's  storm  alights  : 

A  lesser  God — a  rudder  to  impel. 

Targe  for  ingratitude,  and  flattery's  bellj 

In  fortune  praised — in  sorrow  shunn'd  3  his  lot 

To  be  adored — deserted — and  forgot. 

His  wish  a  thousand  hurry  to  fulfill  j 

His  will  is  law — his  law  is  all  men's  will : 

His  breath  is  choked  by  sweetly-sounding  lies. 

And  seeming  mirth,  and  cheating  flatteries. 

Which  ever  waft  truth's  accents  from  his  ear  ; 

And  if  perchance  its  music  he  should  hear. 

They  break  its  force,  and  through  the  crooked  way 

Of  their  delusions  flatter  and  betray. 


-1687.]  CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS.  157 

He  knows  no  love — its  smiles  are  all  forbidden ; 
He  has  no  friend — thus  virtue's  charms  are  hidden ; 
All  round  is  self — the  proud  no  friends  possess  } 
Life  is  with  them  but  scorn  and  heartlessness  : 
He  is  a  suitor  forced  by  fear  to  wed. 
And  wooes  the  daughter,  though  the  sire  he  dread, — 
In  this  far  less  than  even  the  lowest  slave 
That  fells  the  tree  or  cleaves  the  rising  wave. 
His  friends  are  foes  when  tried — Corruption  flies 
O'er  his  disorder'd  country  when  he  dies. 
If  long  success  from  virtue's  path  entice. 
They  will  not  blend  their  honour  with  his  vice. 
But  rather  shed  their  tears  in  that  swift  stream 
Against  whose  might  their  might  is  as  a  dream. 
His  days  are  not  his  own,  for  smiles  and  sorrow 
Visit  him  each  :  the  eventide,  the  morrow 
Deny  him  rest — sleep's  influence  steals  not  o'er  him  : 
Wearied  he  lives,  and  joy  retreats  before  him. 
Beneath  care's  sickle  all  his  flowers  decay  j 
His  sparkling  cup  in  dullness  sinks  away. 
His  son  on  tiptoe  stands  to  seize  the  crown. 
Which  a  few  years  of  woes  shall  tumble  down. 
O  gilded  thistle !  why  should  mortals  crave  thee. 
Who  art  but  bitter  medicine  when  they  have  thee  ! 
Or  why  aspire  to  state  ne'er  long  possest — 
By  dangers  ever  circled,  and  no  rest ! 


158  CONST ANTIJN  HUIJGENS.  [1596- 

Maer  de  Vroegh-tijd  is  verloopen. 
Swiftly  is  the  morn-tide  fleeting. 

On  my  willing  muse  I'll  call. 
For  the  sun  is  now  retreating 

To  his  golden  southern  hall : 
Morning's  crowds  are  all  departed 

From  the  thickly-peopled  street ; 
All  the  city's  walks  deserted. 

Shady  solitudes  to  greet. 

But  by  thee  I'll  not  be  driven. 

Fiercely  shining  lamp  on  high — 
Measurer  of  our  days  from  heaven — 

Year-disposer — glorious  eye  ; 
Mist-absorber — spring-returner — 

Day-prolonger — summer's  mate  ; 
Beast-annoyer — visage-burner — 

Fair-one's  spoiler — maiden's  hate ; — 

Cloud-disperser — darkness-breaker — 

Moon-surpriser — starlight-thief  j 
Torch-conductor — shadow-maker — 

Rogue-discoverer — eyes'  relief; 
Linen-bleacher — noiseless  stroller — 

All-observer — gilding  all ; 
Dust-disturber — planet-roller — 

Traveller's  friend,  and  day-break's  call  j — 


-1687.]  CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS.  159 

Let  thy  flashes  be  directed 

To  the  waste,  from  me  aloof: 
1  am  from  their  heat  protected 

By  my  sheltering  linden-roof. 
When  thy  Dog-star,  first  appearing. 

Casts  around  his  scorching  eye. 
Here,  no  more  his  anger  fearing. 

Him  I  call,  and  him  defy. 

Yes  !  let  all  the  mists,  exhaling 

From  the  marshes,  meet  and  blend ; 
Let  them  all,  at  once  assailing. 

In  one  giant  mass  descend. 
Still  at  rest,  and  uncomplaining. 

Nor  of  aught  that  falls  afraid. 
Cool  in  heat,  and  when  'tis  raining 

Dry  beneath  my  linden-shade. 

Oh  !  how  often  have  I  spoken 

Of  the  zephyr's  fragrant  sigh, 
(Which  through  playful  leaves  has  broken. 

And  in  murmurs  glided  by 
For  the  love  of  summer  pining,) 

Doubting  whether  I  might  be 
On  the  cool  green's  breast  reclining. 

Or  a  gale  of  greenery. 


160  CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS.  [1596- 

"  Frigid  Chloris  !  marble-hearted  !  " 
(Late  I  heard  a  lover  mourn. 
Who  with  quenchless  passion  smarted. 
Hopeless  of  a  kind  return) — 
"  Chloris,  whom  I  love  sincerely. 
And  for  whom  I  sigh  and  pray. 
Truth  to  thee  was  bought  more  dearly 
Than  thou  ever  canst  repay. 

"  Has  the  fierce  and  weakening  power 

Of  the  exhausting  summer-heat 
Made  thee  oft-times  seek  the  bower. 

And  the  linden's  cool  retreat  ? 
Hast  thou  here  so  soft  been  shaded 

By  the  foliage  which  it  bears. 
And  in  peacefiilness  evaded 

All  the  noontide's  fretful  cares, — 

"  Thinking  never  of  the  anguish. 

Thinking  never  of  the  throes. 
He  must  feel,  whose  heart  must  languish 

'Neath  a  flame  that  always  glows  ? 
He  need  never  fear  the  splendour 

Of  a  sun  in  distant  skies. 
But  he  must  at  once  surrender 

To  thy  near  and  brilliant  eyes  : — 


-1687.]  CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS.  161 

"  To  thy  brilliant  eyes,  whose  glances 

Led  me  when  a  thoughtless  boy  3 
Causes  of  my  feverish  trances. 

And  my  terror  and  my  joy. 
Eyes !  which  kill  your  faithful  lover 

With  your  hot  and  poisonotis  ray, — 
Will  ye  ne'er  to  her  discover 

How  I  waste  and  pine  away  ? 

"  TTirough  the  crystal  jet  that  sways  me. 

May  my  Chloris  never  see 
That  one  gentle  sigh  might  raise  me 

From  the  depths  of  misery  : 
Misery  uncontrol'd — unbounded — 

Only  sway'd  when  she  is  near  j 
Depth  of  mystery  never  sounded ! 

Mystery  she  alone  can  clear." 

Of  his  love  (he  could  not  quell  it). 

Of  her  coldness  more  he  said. 
But  I  have  no  time  to  tell  it. 

Caution 'd  by  the  evening's  shade. 
Suitors  !  would  you  learn  the  history 

Which  my  muse  would  fain  conceal. 
In  your  bosoms  read  the  mystery — 

All  its  pains  and  pleasures  feel ! 


162  CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS.  [1596- 

Sun  and  flocks  have  homeward  wended. 

Wrapt  in  shade  is  every  bough ; 
Dews  and  darkness  have  descended. 

Maidens'  charms  are  equal  now. 
Equal  are  all  cheeks  in  flushes. 

Eyes  alike  in  beauty  share ; 
Equal  is  each  lip  in  blushes. 

Every  mouth  is  just  as  fair. 


TO  THE  DIRECTORS  OF  AMSTERDAM, 

IN  THBIB  NEW  STADTHOUSE. 
Doorluchte  stichteren  van  *s  werelts  achtste  wonder. 

Illustrious  men  !  who  bade  the  world's  eighth  won- 
der rise. 

Lifting  its  crown  of  stone  sublimely  to  the  skies  ; 

Whose  splendid  walls  are  rear'd  by  skill's  unerring 
hand. 

To  Use,  the  end,  the  source  of  all  that 's  rich  and  grand  j 

May  God,  who  gave  you  power  to  mingle  good  with 
show. 

Within  that  stately  pile  his  favouring  smiles  bestow. 

That  ye  to  all  the  world  may  prove  what  men  ye  are ; 

And  peace  be  ever  there — and  misery  banish'd  far. 


-1687.]  CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS.  163 

But  if  it  be  ordain'd,  when  years  have  roU'd  away. 
That  e'en  these  marble  walls  must  crumble  and  decay  j 
And  if  it  be  by  Heav'n,  in  future  times,  decreed. 
That  to  your  wondrous  work  another  must  succeed, — 
May  God,  your  fathers'  God — may  God,  your  chil- 
dren's father. 
Beneath  his  shadowing  wings  those  children  kindly 

gather. 
And  give  them  an  abode,  when  ye  from  earth  have 

past. 
As  much  excelling  this,  as  this  excels  the  last ! 


GENEROUS  THANKS. 

Gierige  Gijs  had  zich  over  gesorghd. 

Onck  afflicted  with  fancies,  a  miserly  elf 

In  a  moment  of  trouble  suspended  himself : 

And  a  second  or  two  would  have  ended  the  clown ; 

When  his  servant  came  in,  and  with  speed  cut  him 

down. 
But  as  soon  as  the  miser  could  give  his  words  scope  j 
He  said,  "Tom,  I  thank  you  3  but — pay  for  the  rope." 


164  CONSTANTIJN  HUIJGENS. 

ON  PETER'S  POETRY. 

Schrijft  Pieter  altemet  een  veers. 

When  Peter  condescends  to  write. 
His  verse  deserves  to  see  the  light. 
If  any  further  you  inquire, 
I  mean — the  candle  or  the  fire. 


EPIGRAM. 

Sij  Hegen  't  die  verklaeren. 

They  know  full  well  the  lying  art. 
Who  say  that  Derrick  has  no  heart : 
In  dangers,  sir,  of  every  kind 

He  feels  it  lives — it  ne'er  dissembles ; 
And  at  the  smallest  breath  of  wind. 

E'en  as  the  poplar's  leaves,  it  trembles. 


JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER. 


BORM  1610 — DIED  1666. 


Geest  en  verstant,  die  twee  eigentlijke  punten,  waerop  des 
menschen  bequaemheit  bestaet,  en  welker  een  zonder  den  ande- 
ren  te  hebben,  slechts  een  half  gelukkigen  uitmaekt,  blinken 
alomme  zoo  heerlijk,  en  met  zoo  veele  aenlokkende  sieraden 
in  zijne  werken  uit,  dat  geene  jaren,  noch  bitze  haet  en  nijt  van 
ruekeloze  onwetenheid,  dezelve  in  kleinachtinge  hebben  konnen 
brengen,  ofte  in  het  toekomende  omverrewerpen  zuUen,  maer 
zoo  lange  de  Nederduitsche  Poezij  eenige  achtbaerheit  behout, 
om  de  kraght  en  eigenschap  zijner  ongemeene  uitdrukkingen, 
de  verwondering  en  goetkeuring  van  alle  brave  vernuften 
weghdragen  zuUen. 

Van  Nidek. 


JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER. 


J  ERKMiAS  DE  Decker  wos  bom  at  Dordrecht  in  1610. 
His  poems  are  to  this  day  justly  esteemed  by  his  coun- 
trymen for  beauty  of  thought  combined  with  elegance 
of  expression,  learning  without  pedantry,  and  harmo- 
nious versification  free  from  feebleness  and  pueri- 
lity. Feeling — intense  and  romantic  feeling — is  the 
peculiar  characteristic  of  his  writings,  as  it  appears  to 
have  been  of  his  heart ;  to  whose  virtues  many  of  his 
contemporaries  have  paid  tribute.  He  diligently  stu- 
died both  ancient  and  modem  works,  and  it  is  said 
composed  for  his  own  use  a  Dutch  grammar,  in  order 
that  he  might  reflect  before  he  wrote,  and  not  sacrifice 
to  inadvertency,  metre  and  methodical  propriety.  His 
translations  are  striking  and  correct.  The  Lof  der 
Geldzucht  (Praise  of  Avarice),  the  most  extended  of 
his  works,  contains  a  treasure  of  learning  and  know- 
ledge of  the  world:  his  Goede  Vrijdag  of  het  Lijden 
van  Jezus  (Good  Friday,  or  the  Sufferings  of  Jesus), 
is  distinguished  by  its  solemnity  of  conception,  and 
by  the  lyric  harmony  of  its  execution.  But  it  is  in  his 
Birth-day  and  Bridal  Songs  and  Elegies  that  he  most 


168  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.  [1610- 

excels.  They  affect  by  their  very  simplicity.  In  them 
there  is  not  a  line,  a  phrase,  scarcely  a  word,  that  can 
be  omitted  or  improved.  His  Morgenstond  (Morning) 
and  Lente  (Spring)  are  characterized  by  the  same  ex- 
cellencies. 

He  died  in  1666. 


THE  TOO-EARLY-OPENING  FLOWER. 

Teer  bloemeken,  sie  wat  ghij  doet. 

Not  yet,  frail  flower  !  thy  charms  unclose  } 
Too  soon  thou  ventur'st  forth  again  ; 
For  April  has  its  winter-rain. 

And  tempest-clouds,  and  nipping  snows. 

Too  quickly  thoii  uprear'st  thy  head  ; 
The  northern  wind  may  reach  thee  still. 
And  injure — nay,  for  ever  kill 

Thy  charming  white  and  lovely  red. 

And  thou  perchance  too  late  wilt  sigh. 
That  at  the  first  approach  of  spring 
Thou  mad'st  thy  bud  unfold  its  wing. 

And  show  its  blush  to  every  eye  ; 

For  March  a  faithless  smile  discloses. 
If  thou  wouldst  bloom  securely  here. 
Let  Phoebus  first  o'ertake  the  steer  : 

Thou'rt  like  the  seaman,  who  reposes 


-1666.]  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.  169 

On  one  fair  day — one  favouring  wind, 
"Weighs  anchor,  and  the  future  braves  : 

But  sighs,  when  on  the  ocean  waves. 
For  that  calm  port  he  leaves  behind. 
As  with  an  anxious  eye  he  sees 

HLs  shatter'd  hull  and  shiver'd  sail 

Borne  at  the  mercy  of  the  gale 
Wherever  winds  and  waters  please  j 
And  deems,  as  he  is  sinking  fast 

The  sands  and  brine  and  foam  beneath. 

That  every  wave  contains  a  death. 
That  every  plunge  will  be  his  last. 
Thou'rt  like  the  courtier,  who,  elate 

When  greeted  first  by  favour's  ray. 

Begins  to  make  a  grand  display : — 
But,  ah  !  it  is  a  fickle  state. 
A  court  Is  like  a  garden-shade  j 

The  courtiers  and  the  flowers  that  rise 

Too  suddenly,  'neath  changeful  skies. 
Oft  sink  into  the  dust  and  fade. 
In  short,  we  all  are  like  thy  flower. 

And  ever,  both  in  weal  and  woe. 

With  strange  perverseness,  we  bestow 
Our  thoughts  on  time's  swift-fleeting  hour. 
And  'tis  the  same  with  those  who  pine. 

And  deem  that  grief  will  never  flee, 

And  those  who,  bred  in  luxury. 
Think  the  gay  sun  will  always  shine. 
t 


170  JEEEMIAS  DE  DECKER.  [1626- 

For  every  joy  brings  sorrow  too^ 

And  even  grief  may  herald  mirth ; 

And  God  has  mingled  life  on  earth 
With  bitterness  and  honey-dew. 
Thus  winter  follows  summer's  bloom. 

And  verdant  summer  winter's  blight ; 

Thus  reign  by  turns  the  day  and  night ; — 
Change  is  the  universal  doom. 
Then,  floweret !  when  thy  charms  have  fled. 

All  wither'd  by  a  fate  unkind. 

Call  wisdom's  proverb  to  thy  mind — 
Soon  green,  soon  gray — soon  ripe,  soon  dead. 


"  PAUCISSIMA  CUPIENS  DEO  PROXIMUS." 

\ 

Het  goud  verguld  de  deugd,  't  verciert  des  wyzen  leven. 

Gold  may  gild  virtue  and  adorn  the  wise  : 

And  who  of  sense  and  goodness  makes  his  boast. 

May  towards  the  Eternal  Fount  of  Kindness  rise ; — 
But  who  wants  least  resembles  God  the  most. 


-1666.]  J£R£|f  TAS  OS  PJSCKEB.  171 

TO  A  BROTHER  WHO  DIED  AT  BATAVIA. 

O  zaligh  ghij  die  ons  verdriet. 

Blessed  !  though  misery-causing,  thou  ! 
Who  seest  not  our  domestic  woe. 
And  hear'st  not  our  funereal  plaint ; 
But  slumberest  on  thy  bed  of  rest, 
Stretch'd  in  the  furthest  orient. 
With  Java's  sands  upon  thy  breast ! 

Did  I  not  tell  thee,  broken-hearted. 

Thy  doom — sad  doom  !  when  last  we  parted  ? 

Did  1  not  paint  the  dangers*  near  ? 

Tell  thee  what  misery  would  be  mine^ 

To  leave  a  father's  solemn  bier. 

With  tottering  steps — to  weep  o'er  thine  ? 

Long  absence  brought  thee  to  my  sight. 

In  fiery  flashes — ^lightning  bright — 

But  that  the  thunder  might  not  shock  thee. 

Death  to  his  bosom  gather'd  thee ; 

And  now  no  more  the  wild  winds  rock  thee. 

And  rages  now  no  more  the  sea. 

When  Fortune  smiled,  he  neither  bow'd 
To  luxury,  nor  waxed  vain  and  proud  j 
He  was  too  wise  on  childish  toys 
To  fix  a  heart  unstain'd  by  guile, 
i2 


172  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.  [1626- 

Or  give  to  earthly  griefs  or  joys 
The  useless  tear,  the  idle  smile. 

Upright  in  all — of  lips  sincere  j 
Of  open  hand — disposed  to  cheer 
The  suppliant,  and  assist  the  poor  ; 
Willing  to  lend — and  pleased  to  pay  j'  '  ^' 

And  still  subduing,  more  and  more,   ''^ 

The  natural  frailties  of  our  way.        "^  ^ 

A  father,  tutor'd  to  submit 

To  all  that  Heaven  deem'd  right  and  fit. 

And  with  a  tranquil  spirit  say. 

While  far  above  earth's  changes  rais'd, — 

"  The  Lord  has  given — He  takes  away,     . 

And  be  his  name  for  ever  prais'd." 

His  country's  government  he  ever 
Cheerfully  served,  but  flattered  never  : 
So  fully  bent  in  every  thought 
Upon  his  nation's  interest,  he 
From  every  side  instruction  brought. 
And  knowledge,  like  the  Athenian  bee, 

A  father  such  as  this — a  friend 
And  brother — have  I  seen  descend 
Smitten  by  death  :  beneath  him  years 
Hollow'd  the  tomb's  descent ;  and  slow 


■1666.]  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.  17S 

And  silent  down  the  vale  of  tears 
He  sank  to  where  he  sleeps  below. 

The  mouth  which  words  of  mirth  supplied. 
At  morning's  dawn  and  eventide. 
Truth  gather'd  from  the  immortal  book. 
Is  still  for  ever :  it  shall  slake 
Its  thirst  no  more  in  Eden's  brook. 
Nor  Zion's  sweet  refreshment  take. 

But  ah !  we  are  driven  by  distress 

From  bitterness  to  bitterness  ; 

For  scarce  had  sorrow  o'er  thee  strew'd 

The  dews  of  sympathy,  ere  pain 

Brought  all  its  busy  multitude 

Of  griefis  and  woes  to  wound  again  : 

And  of  our  house  (O  fatal  day  !) 
Bore  chief  and  honour  both  away  : 
The  wheel  was  stopp'd  on  which  it  tum'd. 
And  we,  a  desolate  race,  were  left 
Alone — and  hopeless  there  we  mourn'd 
Him,  whom  remorseless  death  had  reft. 

A  father  !  who  in  wisdom  guided 

The  love  that  in  his  love  confided  : 

A  father  !  who,  upon  our  heart. 

And  in  ovir  blood.  Heaven's  laws  did  write ; 


174«  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.  [1626- 

And  taught  us  never  to  depart 

From  virtue's  v\^ay — befall  what  might. 


A  father  !  temperate,  wise  and  brave. 
Who,  when  the  whirlwind  and  the  wave 
Beat  on  his  bark,  could  seize  the  helm, 
And,  spite  of  storm  and  stream,  convey 
To  port — while  billows  overwhelm 
A  thousand  ships  that  round  him  lay. 

Those  lips,  alas  !  we  loved  so  well. 
Whence  no  ungentle  accents  fell — 
No  thoughts  but  virtue — have  I  seen 
Parch'd  with  a  black  pestiferous  hue. 
And  mark'd  the  dry  and  up-scorched  skin 
Just  spotted  with  a  feverish  dew. 

That  tongue  which  oft  with  us  hath  poured 
The  song  of  joy — and  oft  adored — 
That  voice  which  taught  us  wisdom's  word. 
And  Heaven's  admonitory  will- 
In  gently  breathing  tones  I  heard — 
And  gentler  yet — and  then  'twas  still. 


-1666.]  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.  175 

That  bright  and  noble  countenance. 
Which  gleam'd  with  truth  in  ev'ry  glance. 
And  made  us  love  it — 'twas  so  fair 
And  so  attractive — soon  was  wan— 
And  gloom  and  darkness  nestled  there  : 
'Twas  pale  and  sunk  and  woe-begone. 

I  saw  him  sink — and  day  by  day 

I  mark'd  the  progress  of  decay  : 

His  old  and  venerable  head 

Dropp'd— and  his  smiles  were  dimm'd : — at  last 

The  death-mLst  on  his  crown  was  spread. 

And  our  sun's  glory  veil'd  and  past. 

I  saw  his  hands  grow  stiff  and  cold. 
Long  used  our  honour  to  uphold : 
His  limbs,  that  long  had  borne  the  weight 
Of  many  a  care,  then  tottering  shook. 
As  on  he  moved  with  trembling  gait. 
And  tow'rds  the  tomb  his  path- way  took. 

And  then  I  saw  his  corpse  convey'd 
Dovvn  to  death's  lonely  paths  of  shade, 
Where  gloom  and  dull  oblivion  reign. 
Even  now — even  now — that  scene  I  view — • 
How  could  I  seek  the  light  again  — 
How  ! — mourn  I  not  my  sorrows  too  ? 


176  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.  [1626- 

How  valueless  is  life  to  me ! 

It  seems  impossible  to  be. 

To  talk  of  life  when  those  are  gone 

Who  gave  us  life — is  false  and  vain  : 

O  yes  !  I  have  a  heart  of  stone — 

For  he  is  gone,  and  I  remain, 

O  !  noble  branch  of  Montpensier, 
His  name  shall  be  to  memory  dear. 
And  in  Fame's  brightest  archives  stored ; 
For  not  alone  his  tears  he  gave. 
But  with  his  tears  his  being  poured. 
An  offering  on  his  father's  grave. 

Alas  !  alas !  sad  heart  of  mine, 
^Vere  such  a  glorious  privilege  thine. 
It  were  indeed  a  blissful  doom  ! — 
No  !  not  a  father's  cheek  to  see 
Damp  with  the  cold  dews  of  the  tomb. 
And  mingling  with  mortality. 

But  fain  with  him,  in  silence  deep, 
Shelter' d  from  all  my  woes  I'd  sleep. 
Where,  from  life's  sad  and  darksome  cares. 
Beneath  the  damp  and  gloomy  ground. 
My  soul  his  bed  of  silence  shares 
With  peace  and  solitude  around. 


-1666.]  JIIBEMIAS  DE  DECKER.  1^77 

So  freed  and  far  from  misery's  power. 
And  fears  and  hopes,  the  hastening  hour 
Glides  now  no  more  away  in  pain. 
Nor  weary  nights  in  sleepless  thought ; 
But  ah  !  the  lovely  dream  is  vain — 
My  shaken  heart  deserves  it  not. 

See,  brother  !  thou  didst  leave  thy  home. 
And  woes  like  these,  far  off  to  roam  j 
Yet  other  woes  pursued  thee  there  j 
And  even  across  the  Indian  seas. 
Sorrow  and  darkness  and  despair 
Told  their  sad  tales  and  miseries. 

But  thou  hast  'scaped  the  worst — thy  bed 
From  woe's  loud  storm  hath  screen'd  thy  head : 
1^  *   Thou  shouldst  have  borne  thy  share,  but  now 
'Thou  art  above  the  reach  of  woe  j 
And  I  (a  wretched  being!)  bow. 
And  cry  as  I  was  wont  to  do  : 

Blessed,  though  misery-causing —thou 
Who  seest  not  all  our  sorrows  now. 
And  hearst  not  our  funereal  plaint  j 
But  slumberest  on  thy  bed  of  rest, 
Stretch'd  in  the  furthest  orient. 
With  Java's  sands  upon  thy  breast ! 
I  5 


17B         JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.      [1626- 

We  conclude  the  notice  of  De  Decker  with  a  few 
Stanzas  from  his  affecting  Ode  to  his  Mother : 

Dat  ghy  vertoont  in  uw  gelaet. 

Oh  !  none  will  deem  it  a  disgrace. 

Or  ever  with  reproaches  sting  thee. 
That  thy  fair  brow  should  bear  the  trace 

Of  all  the  inward  griefs  that  wring  thee  : 
Without  the  sun  the  pallid  moon 
Would  lose  her  gayest  lustre  soon  : 
Then  who,  when  wife  and  husband  sever. 

Would  marvel  that  her  eyes  are  dim. 
Since  he  is  her  bright  sun  for  ever. 

And  she  a  gentle  moon  to  him  ! 

The  sun  that  cheer' d  thy  life  has  faded  j 

'Tis  time  for  thee  to  mourn  and  sigh  j 
Thy  light  and  splendour  now  are  shaded. 

In  dust  thy  crown  and  honour  lie  : 
And,  ah  !  thy  house,  that  flourish'd  fair. 
Seems  visited  by  thy  despair. 
And  mourns  like  some  abode  deserted. 

Or  headless  trunk  in  mute  decay, 
A  land  whose  ruler  has  departed, 

A  world,  whose  sun  has  pass'd  away. 


1666.]  JEREMI AS  DE  DECKER.  179 


"Tis  meet  that  for  a  season  thou 

Shouldst  pour  the  tribute  of  thy  sorrow  j 
But  endless  tears,  a  cheerless  brow. 

And  woes  that  hope  no  joyous  morrow. 
Are  trifling — vain — though  sprung  from  love— 
And  sinful  to  thy  God  above. 
And  if  my  father's  spirit,  reigning 

Beyond  the  earth,  can  see  our  grief, 
Thy  never-ceasing,  lone  complaining 

Will  bring  him  misery — not  relief. 

Too  deep  for  tears — the  pangs  we  feel — 

For  he  is  gone  beyond  recalling : 
But,  hark  !  what  murmur'd  accents  steal. 

What  voice  upon  my  ear  is  falling. 
And  through  my  mournful  spirit  flies, 
A^  if  it  came  from  yonder  skies  ? 
Oh  !  can  it  be  my  father  speaking. 

In  pity  to  thy  widow'd  lot. 
To  soothe  the  heart  that  now  is  breaking  ? 

It  Is ! — it  is  '.—dost  hear  it  not  ? 

I  feel  his  accents  from  above. 

Through  heart  and  soul  and  senses  creeping ; 
"  My  wife  !  "  he  cries,  "  my  sorrowing  love ! — 

Oh !  why  give  way  to  endless  weeping. 


180         JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.      [1626- 

And  to  despair  in  weakness  bow ! 

Oh  !  blam'st  thou  Heaven,  because  it  now 

Has  open'd  Eden's  glorious  portal ; 

Think'st  thou  that  death  could  pardon  me  ? 
Ah  !  no  J  all — all  on  earth  is  mortal. 

And  fades  into  eternity. 


I  lie  in  safety  and  at  rest, 

And  nought  that  1  behold  displeases  ; 
I  hear  no  accents  that  molest. 

E'en  when  the  North  with  tempest-breezes 
Sweeps  in  its  fury  o'er  the  deep. 
And  wakes  the  ocean  from  its  sleep ; 
Or  when  the  thunder-cloud  is  scowling. 

Or  lightning  rages  from  the  west, 
I  fear  not  for  the  tempest's  howling. 

But  lie  in  safety  and  at  rest. 

The  journey  of  my  life  is  o'er. 

From  earthly  chains  has  Heav'n  unbound  me. 
And  punishment  and  shame  no  more 

Can  cast  their  torturing  influence  round  me. 
And  dost  thou,  dearest !  weep  for  me. 
And  dost  thou  mourn  that  I  should  be 
No  more  on  earth  ?  And  art  thou  sighing 

That  I  in  peace  have  left  a  life 
Which  is  but  one  long  scene  of  dying, 

Anxiety,  and  worrying  strife  ? 


-1666.]  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER.  181 


Whilst  here  that  brighten'd  visage  glows. 

From  which,  whene'er  ray  eyes  retrace  it, 
A  stream  of  joy  and  luxury  flows 

Too  vast  for  language  to  embrace  it. 
Here  I  approach  with  forehead  bright. 
The  majesty  of  endless  light  j 
Light; — whose  eternal  beam  is  dwelling 

Where  mortal  eye  can  see  no  way ; 
Light — the  gay  sun  as  much  excelling, 

As  he  excels  morn's  faintest  ray. 


Ye  men  !  who  wear  delusion's  chain. 

What  madness  hath  your  judgments  riven  ? 
Could  you  a  transient  glance  obtain 

Of  all  we  see  and  feel  in  heaven. 
All  earth's  delights  would  seem  but  care — 
Its  glory  mist — its  Wiss  despair ; 
Its  splendours  slavish  melancholy; 

Its  princely  mansions  loathsome  sties; 
Its  greatest  wisdom  merest  folly  j 

And  all  its  riches  vanities  ! 

Then,  dearest,  be  the  pomp  and  state 
Of  earth's  vain  world  for  ever  slighted. 

And  ask  of  God  that  still  our  fate 
May  be  above  again  united. 


182  JEREMIAS  DE  DECKER. 

We'll  join  the  bridal  scene  once  more — 

A  bridal  not  like  ours  of  yore 

Earthly  and  weak,  nor  long  remaining ; 

But  heavenly,  firm,  and  without  end. — 
Be  comforted,  and  cease  complaining. 

And  deem  all  good  that  God  may  send." 


LEARNING  AND  WISDOM, 

Het  weten  is  wel  scfaoon,  maar  doen  gaet  boven  weten. 

To  know  is  good,  I  own — to  do  is  better  still : 

Him  who  knows  much  and  well — call  learned  if  you 

will  3 
But  there  are  seasons  oft  when  he  shall  win  the  prize. 
And  wear  it  proudly  too — whose  deeds,  not  words,  are 

wise. 


"  IN  UTRAQUE  FORTUNA  PROBUS." 

't  Zy  dat  ons  't  los  Geluk  nu  medeloop,  nu  tegen. 

We  are  upon  life's  tide — now  fair,  now  foul — the  sea 
Now  flows — now  ebbs.    Ebbing  and  flowing,  each 
May  food  for  virtues  give,  and  wisdom's  lesson  teach  : 
Patience  in  grief — in  joy,  sobriety. 


DANIEL  JONCKTIJS. 


BORN DIED  1654. 


Op  hem  sloeg  liefdeboeijensmeder 
Een  vonk,  door  eenen  klap  der  veder 
Van  zijn  gevaarlijk  toortslicht  neer, 

FORTMAN. 


DANIEL  JONCKTIJS. 


L/ANiEL  JoNCKTijs  was  born  at  Dordrecht  at  the 
commencement  of  the  17th  century.  As  an  amatory 
writer  he  is  thought  highly  of  by  his  countrymen, 
though  he  is  encumbered  with  quaint  conceits.  He 
practised  physic^  and  died  at  Rotterdam  in  1 654. 

THE  ROSE  AND  ROSALINE. 

Wanneer  mijn  purper  bloosje  bleijckt. 
THE  ROSE. 

Whene'er  my  purple  blushes  die, 
My  stalk  to  earth  turns  droopingly. 
My  tender  bud,  by  slow  degrees. 
Unfolds  its  leaves  to  summer's  breeze. 
Till  nipping  wind,  or  burning  sun. 
Bids  it  decay,  as  I  had  done  : — 
Yet  let  the  spring  chase  winter's  gloom. 
And  I  am  still  in  youth  and  bloom. 
But,  Rosaline,  whene'er  thy  spring 
Has  o'er  thee  ceas'd  its  bloom  to  fling. 
All  hope  is  gone — a  winter  drear 
And  winter's  killing  frost  are  near : 


186  DANIEL  JONKTIJS. 

The  radiance  of  thine  eye,  that  darts 
Through  other  eyes  to  other  hearts ; 
Thy  coral-lip,  like  damask  rose. 
The  lustre  of  thy  cheek,  that  glows, 
Once  gone,  nor  summer-sun  nor  rain 
Can  bring  their  beauty  back  again. 

ROSALINE. 

When  once  thy  leaves  are  dry  and  pale, 
O  what  shall  vernal  dews  avail  ? 
When  once  thy  stalk  is  snapp'd — in  vain 
We  seek  the  smiling  flower  again. 
Although  another  wakening  spring 
A  gem  as  beautiful  may  bring. 
Yet  who  shall  say,  when  call'd  to  die — 
When  brightness  leaves  my  closing  eye  ; 
Oh  !  who  shall  say — the  earth  will  see 
Another  maiden  like  to  me  ? 

THE  ROSE. 

If  hurrying  time  can  ne'er  restore 
Youth's  fleeting  gifts  when  youth  is  o'er ; 
If  every  day  their  brightness  flies — 
Oh  !  why  Heaven's  better  gifts  despise  ? 
Let  not  their  holier  lustre  fade — 
Be  they  enjoy'd — thou  gentle  maid  ! 
For  who  shall  gaze  on  eyes  like  thine. 
When  thou  and  those  bright  eyes  decline 


JAN  VOS. 


BORN  1620 DIED  1662. 


Die  in  stilheidt  leidt  zijn  leven, 

Met  een  eerlijk  kleedt  bedekt; 
Meer  vergeten,  dan  verheven, 
Door  geen  quaden  lust  gedreven, 

Niet  benijdt,  noch  niet  begekt  ;— 
«  *  *  *  « 

Die,  met  zijn  beroep  te  vreden, 

Kan  betomen  zijnen  wensch, 
Die  zijn  tochten  heeft  besneden 
Niet  naer  lusten,  maer  naer  reden. 

Die  is  een  gehikkig  mensch. 

P.  DX  Gkoot. 


JAN  VOS. 


Jan  Vos  was  born  at  Amsterdam  about  the  year 
1G20.  His  birth  seems  to  have  been  obscure,  and 
his  education  necessarily  limited.  Had  it  been  pro- 
perly cultivated,  there  is  little  doubt  that  he  would 
have  disputed  the  palm  with  the  best  writers  of  his 
time.  He  was  a  labouring  glass-maker.  His  Epi- 
grams (Puntdkhten)  are  pointed )  and  generally  his 
poetry  is  shrewd  and  vigorous.  His  Dramatic  pieces 
overflow  with  excess  of  passion.     He  died  in  1 662. 


LAURA. 

TO  HER  ARTIST. 
Maal  Laura  met  een  si>eer,  zij  zai  Minerf  gelijken. 

Arm  Laura  with  a  spear — Minerva  she  shall  be — 
If  bending  o'er  a  bow — the  goddess  of  the  chase — 

Give  her  a  golden  stafl^ — a  Juno  thou  shalt  see — 
An  apple  let  her  seize — and  Venus  thou  canst  trace. 


190  JAN  vos. 

Yet,  hold  !  my  Laura  needs  from  goddesses  no  arms. 
Whom  we  to  her  compare  are  greater  than  before. 

Yes  !  they  who  all  subdue  are  conquer'd  by  her  charms  ; 
But  place  her  in  the  fields,  and  nature  asks  no  more. 

From  clouds  the  sun-light  ne'er  obtains  its  dazzling 
blaze — 

What  in  itself  is  fair  requires  no  borrow'd  rays. 


EPIGRAM 

ON  A  HUMP-BACKED  POET. 
Flip  roemt  zich  meester  van  de  Dichters  in  het  sticht. 

He  calls  himself  the  prince  of  bards,  and  swears 
He'll  pull  Parnassus  down  about  the  ears 
Of  doubters — let  them  all  beware,  or  rue  it ; 
He  bears  Parnassus  on  his  back  to  do  it. 


JAN  KRULL. 


BORN   1602 DIED  1644. 


Ook  rast  gij  niet  als  menig  zanger 

Die  zijn  voldragen  chaos  langer 

Niet  houden  kan,  maar  barst,  indien  hij  zwijgen  moet, 

Gij  spreekt  bedaard  en  toch  met  dichterlijken  gloed. 

Loots. 


Overal  vindt  men  bewijzen  van  eenen  wel  niet  hoog,  maar 
zacht  en  liefelijk  gestemden  geest. 

Jeronimo  de  Vries. 


JAN  KRULL. 


Jan  Krcll  followed,  in  all  his  poetical  writings,  the 
style  of  Cats.  His  Pampiere  fVereld  (in  4  vols.) 
contains  a  variety  of  productions — ^pastoral,  allego- 
rical, and  didactic.  He  belonged  to  the  lowest  ranks 
of  society,  and  was  originally  a  labouring  blacksmith. 
He  wrote  with  ease,  and  his  verses  are  smooth  and 
flowing.     Of  his  history  little  is  known. 


LINES 

WRITTEN  UNDER  A  STATUE  REPRESENTING  CUPID 
WITH  A  FLAMING  TORCH  REVERSED. 

Het  bovenst  staet  omlaegh,  het  laeghts  comt  op  gesprongen. 

The  flaming  torch  to  earth's  cold  breast  the  child  of 
Venus  turns. 

Which  when  he  most  essays  to  quench  it  most  in- 
tensely burns. 


194?  JAN  KRULL. 

'Tis  ever  thus  with  those  who  seek  to  change  love's 

soaring  course, — 
The  greater  the  constraint  they  use,  the  greater  is  its 

force : 
So  'tis  throughout  the  world,  where  love  is  most  op- 

press'd  and  bound. 
E'en  there  its  mightiest  influence,  its  greatest  strength 

is  found. 


't  Is  met  het  wereldsch  zoo  gesteld. 

All  worldly  things  to  change  must  yield. 
As  the  sweet  floweret  of  the  field  : 
To-day  it  lifts  its  starry  head. 
To-morrow  strews  the  meadow — dead  : 
To-day  it  stands  in  light  and  pride. 
But  droops  in  dust  ere  morrow's  tide. 
And  is  before  another  day 
In  storms  and  darkness  swept  away. 


JACOB  WESTERBAEN. 


BOEN  1599 DIED  1670. 


K   2 


Ick  vorder  eijgentUjck  een  leven, 
Sodanich  als't  geleerde  blad 
Des  wijzen  Westerbaen  het  vat, 
In  alle  wetenschap  bedreven, 

P.  DE  Groot. 


JACOB  WESTERBAEN. 


Jacob  Westerbaev,  born  in  1599,  was  a  knight, 
and  Lord  of  Brantwijck,  Gijblant,  &c. ;  yet,  although 
of  exalted  rank  and  renowned  for  his  learning,  he 
chose  rather  to  pass  his  days  in  quiet  and  retirement, 
than  sacrifice  to  the  wishes  of  the  great  his  religious 
and  political  feelings.  He  practised  medicine  in  the 
early  part  of  his  life.  He  was  a  disciple  of  Episcopius, 
and  remained  true  to  the  doctrines  of  his  master.  He 
enjoyed  the  friendship  of  Cats,  Van  Baerle,  Huij- 
OENS,  De  Decker  and  Brandt,  and  was  the  stre- 
nuous defender  of  Olden  Barneveldt,  De  Groot, 
and  other  great  but  unfortunate  statesmen.  His 
works  are  contained  in  three  volumes,  of  which  the 
moral  and  humorous  epigrams  have  obtained  consi- 
derable renown.  He  died  about  the  year  1670  at 
his  country  seat,  Ockenburg,  which  he  has  made  the 
subject  of  one  of  his  poems  (see  p.  13). 


Denkct  nict  dat  den  lieven  geur. 

Think  not  that  the  dear  perfume 
And  the  bloom 


198  JACOB  WESTERBAEN.  [1599- 

Of  those  cheeks,  divinely  glowing, 
Ever  shall  remain  to  thee 
While  there  be 
None  for  whom  those  flowers  are  blowing. 

By  the  eglantine  be  taught 
How  'tis  sought 
For  its  bloom  and  fragrance  only  : 
Is  not  all  its  beauty  past 
When  at  last 
On  the  stem  'tis  hanging  lonely  ? 

Maidens  are  like  garden  bowers  ' 
Fill'd  with  flowers. 
Which  are  spring-time's  choicest  treasure  ; 
While  the  budding  leaves  they  bear 
Flourish  there. 
They  will  be  a  source  of  pleasure. 

'  In  this  aud  the  subsequent  verse,  the  author  appears  to 
have  had  Catullus's  Carmen  Nuptiale  in  his  mind,  although  he 
has,  in  a  delicate  and  masterly  manner,  varied  the  idea :  — 

"  Ut  flos  in  septis  secretus  nascitur  hortis, 
Ignotus  pecori,  nuUo  contusus  aratro, 
Quem  mulcent  aurae,  firmat  sol,  educat  imber : 
Multi  ilium  pueri,  multae  optavere  puellae  -. 
Idem  cum  tenui  carptus  defloruit  ungui, 
Nulli  ilium  pueri,  nuUae  optavere  puellae  : 
Sic  virgo,  dum  intacta  manet,  dum  cara  suis  est. 
Cum  castum  amisit  poUuto  corpore  florem. 
Nee  pueris  jucunda  manet,  nee  cara  puellis." 


-1670.]  JACOB   WESTERBAEN.  199 

But  whene'er  the  lovely  spring 

Spreads  her  wing. 

And  the  rose's  charms  have  fleeted  j 

Nor  those  lately-valued  flowers. 

Nor  the  bowers. 

Shall  with  former  praise  be  greeted. 

While  Love's  beam  in  woman's  eyes 
Fondly  lies. 
All  the  heart's  best  feelings  telling. 
Love  will  come,  (a  welcome  guest ! ) 
And  her  breast 
Be  his  own  ecstatic  dwelling. 

But  when  envious  Time  takes  arms 
'Gainst  her  charms. 
All  her  youthful  graces  spuming. 
Love,  who  courted  beauty's  ray. 
Steals  away. 
Never  thinking  of  returning. 

Maidens  !  who  man's  suit  deride. 
And  whose  pride 
Scorns  the  hearts  that  bow  before  ye. 
From  my  song  this  lesson  learn  : 
Be  not  stern 
To  the  Lovers  who  adore  ye. 


200  JACOB  WESTERBAEN. 

Gelijk  een  roosje  teer. 
E'en  as  a  tender  rose. 

To  which  the  Spring  gives  birth. 
Falls  when  the  north  wind  blows, 
An^  withers  on  the  earth  : 
So,  when  her  eye-light  throws  its  glances  brightly 

through  me, 
I  sink  o'erwhelm'd  and  gloomy. 

E'en  as  the  herb  by  day 

Its   green  leaf  downwards  turns. 
What  time  the  sun's  fierce  ray 
Upon  it  fiercely  burns  j 
So  'neath  the  quenchless  fire,  that  from  her  eyes  is 

shining, 
1  feel  myself  declining. 

My  courage  is  subdued 

By  sorrow's  mighty  thrill. 
And  so  in  solitude 
I  linger  sadly  still  j 
While  her  sweet  witcheries  cast  their  magic  influence 

round  me. 
And  in  their  chains  have  bound  me, 

Rijck  wil  noch  rijcker  zijn. 
Weai/Th  would  be  wealthier  still,  and  aye  to  gold 

aspires. 
Wealth  !    wouldst  thou  wealthier  be  :   diminish  thy 

desires. 


REINIER  ANSLO. 


BORN   1622 — DIED  1669. 


k6 


Het  schijnt  dat  veel  haer  landt,  waerin  zij  zijn  geboren, 
En  hare  moedertael  niet  gaerne  sien  noch  liooren. 


Een  man  in  zijnen  tijd  algemeen  beroemd,  en  door  Vondel 
geprezen  om  zijne  sierlijke  netbeid. 

Jeronimo  dx  Vries. 


REINIER  ANSLO. 


Anslo's  birth  place  was  Amsterdam.  He  travelled 
to  Italy  in  1649,  where  he  adopted  the  Catholic  reli- 
gion, which  he  professed  to  the  day  of  his  death.  His 
Plague  of  Naples  is  a  production  of  singular  vigour, 
and  crowded  with  all  the  frightful  imagery  of  its  awful 
subject.     He  died  at  Perugia. 


Waar  zullen  wij  ons  nu  verschuilen. 

Where  shall  we  hide  us — he  pursuing  ? 
What  darksome  cave,  what  gloomy  ruin  ? 
It  matters  not — distress  and  fear 
Are  every  where. 

Who  now  can  shield  us  from  the  fury 
That  seems  upon  our  steps  to  hurry  ? 
Our  brow  exudes  a  frozen  sweat 
On  hearing  it. 

List  to  that  scream !  that  broken  crying  ! 
Could  not  the  death-gasp  hush  that  sighing  ? 
Are  these  the  fruits  of  promis'd  peace  ? 
O  wretchedness ! 


204  BEINIER  ANSLO. 

Even  as  a  careless  shepherd  sleeping. 
Forgetful  of  the  flocks  he 's  keeping. 
Is  smitten  by  the  lightning's  breath, — 
The  bolt  of  death : 

E'en  as  the  growing  mountain-current 
Pours  down  the  vales  its  giant  torrent. 
And  sweeps  the  thoughtless  flocks  away 
That  slumbering  lay : 

So  were  we  roused — so  woe  descended 
Before  the  bridal  feast  was  ended. 
And  sleep  hung  heavy — followed  there 
By  blank  despair. 

Helaas!  wat  is  de  heerschappij. 

Alas  !  and  what  is  majesty 

But  care  ?  what  care  but  slavery  ? 

And  slavery's  chain — what  free-born  spirit 

Will  bend  its  humbled  neck  to  wear  it  ? 

Kings  deem,  poor  fools  !  the  royal  sun 
Envies  the  brightness  of  their  throne. 
And,  as  he  rolls,  has  glory  borrowed 
From  their  far  more  resplendent  forehead. 

They  know  not  that  in  caverns  dark 
Decaying  wood  emits  a  spark  j 
Nor  see  that  eyes  and  hearts  benighted 
Are  dazzled  and  deceived — not  lighted. 


JAN  DE  BRUNE. 


BORN  1585 DIED  1658. 


'Zoo  vliegt  eeu  Bij  om  honig  uit 
Op  Hybla,  rijk  van  geur  en  kruid. 

Poor. 


JAN  DE  BRUNE. 


J  AN  DE  Bbune,  Otherwise  called  Johannes  Juni- 
ANus  Brunjbus.  He  filled  several  public  situations, 
and  at  last  reached  the  highest,  being  made  a  state- 
pensioner  of  Zealand.  A  small  collection  of  his  poems 
was  published  at  Amsterdam,  in  1639,  under  the  title 
of  Veirzjes  (Minor  Poems),  which  were  lauded  by 
Vossius  and  P.  Gkotics. 


'k  Lag  zieltogend  uijtgestreckt. 

I  LAY  in  gasping  agonies. 

And  my  eyes 
Were  covered  by  a  cloud  of  death ; 
It  seemed  as  if  my  spirit  hung 

On  my  tongue. 
About  to  vanish  with  my  breath  j 

When  Laura,  smiling  fondness,  came. 
And,  with  shame. 

Offered  her  delightful  lip. 

Her  sweet  lip,  to  which  the  bee 
Well  might  flee. 

Fragrant  honey  there  to  sip. 


208  JAN  DE  BRUNE. 

Enraptur'd  with  the  sudden  bliss 

Which  her  kiss 
Gave  my  heart,  when  bowed  by  pain. 
Instantly  I  felt  a  light. 

Pure  and  bright. 
Kindle  new  existence  then. 

Oh !  may  heaven  grant  once  more  that  I 

Thus  may  lie  ! 
The  pangs  of  death  I'd  undergo. 
If  lips  as  blooming  and  as  dear 

Were  but  near. 
To  cure  me  with  their  honey  so. 


GERARD  BRANDT. 


BORN  1626 DIED  1685. 


Dees  heeft  natuur  te  baat, 
Het  zij  hij  schrijft  op  maat,  of  zonder  maat. 


Anslo. 


GERARD  BRANDT. 


(jerabd  Brandt,  born  at  Amsterdam  in  1626,  was 
intended  to  pursue  the  business  of  his  father,  who  was 
a  watchmaker ;  but  the  love  of  song  had  taken  pos- 
session of  his  mind,  and  caused  him,  in  his  17th  year, 
to  turn  his  thoughts  to  that  difficult  but  in  those  days 
much-esteemed  branch  of  literature — the  Tragic 
Drama.  A  piece  entitled  The  Dissembling  Torquatus 
(the  scene  of  which  is  laid  at  Rome,  without,  however, 
any  other  adherence  to  history,  or  even  to  the  original 
names ', )  was  pronounced  by  Van  Baerlk  to  be  a 
work  of  no  ordinary  power,  and  one  which  would  have 
reflected  much  honour  on  the  writer,  even  though  it 


'  Van  Kampen  observes—"  There  is  in  this  piece  a  re- 
markable resemblance  to  Hamlet :  Shakspcare  has  drawn  from 
an  old  northern  tradition  preserved  by  Saxo  Grammaticus : 
Brandt's  idea  seems  to  be  entirely  original.  Torquatus  is  at 
Athens  (just  as  Hamlet  at  Wittenberg)  pursuing  his  studies, 
while  his  father  (Manlius)  is  murdered  at  Rome  by  his  own 
brother  (Noron),  who  espouses  the  widow  (Plaucina.)  Who 
does  not  here  immediately  recognise  Claudius,  Gertrude,  and 


212  GERARD  BRANDT.  [1626- 

had  been  composed  at  a  more  mature  age.  We  must 
not,  however,  disguise  that  Van  Baerle  took  an  un- 
common interest  in  him,  and  after  some  time  gave 


the  murdered  king,  of  Shakspeare?     Torquatus  says,  too,  at 
the  commencement : 

*  O  Hemel  zaegt  gij  ooit  rampsaeliger  dan  mij  ? 
Trouwloose,  onsaelige  oom,  verrader  !  hoe  dorst  gij 
Mijn  strijdb're  vader  te  vermoorden,  en  mijn'  moeder 
Misbruiken  tot  uw  boel  ?' 

Hast  thou,  O  Heaven !  e'er  seen  a  wretch  like  me  ? 
Perfidious,  joyless  uncle,  traitorous  slave ! 
How  daredst  thou  thus  my  warlike  father  slay. 
And  stain  my  mother's  fame  ? 

"  Yet  again.  The  ghost  of  Manlius  appears  to  his  son,  and 
incites  him  to  avenge  his  death.  Torquatus  feigns  madness, 
like  Hamlet.  The  object  of  his  affections  (Juliana)  is  also 
introduced.  But  the  most  striking  point  of  resemblance  is  in 
the  scene  where  the  heroes  of  both  tragedies  reproach  their 
guilty  mothers, 

"  '  Nor  on,  being  sore  afraid  of  his  nepliew,  cunningly  introduces 
his  wife  (^Plaucina)  in  a  chamber  where  Torquatus  is,  after  having 
concealed  one  of  his  counsellors  under  a  couch  for  the  purpose  of 
hearing  whether  he  would  openly  avow  his  susjncioiis  to  his  mother. 
Torquatus,  aware  of  this,  suddenly  dispatches  him,  and  rej>roachet 
his  mother  for  her  immodesty,  who,  having  vindicated  herself,  pro- 
mises to  be  faithful.' — Contents  of  the  Piece. 

"  Here  is  in  fact  a  repetition  of  the  scene  where  Polonius, 
behind  the  arras,  falls  by  Hamlet's  sword,  and  the  queen  suffers 


-1685.]  GERARD  BRANDT.  213 

him  his  daughter  Susannah  in  marriage  5    Buandt 
having  for  her  sake  abandoned  his  trade,  and  made 


the  taunts  and  npbraidlngs  of  her  son.     Parts  of  the  language 
have  a  striking  coincidence : 

TORQUATUS. 

<  Naek  mij  niet  met  de  mondt  die  d'  overspeeldcr  kust, 
Sla  d*  oogen  necr  van  schaemt,  die  de  vervloekte  lust 
Van  Noron  prikkelden. 

Wellustige  Vorstin !  ga,  streel  uw  dwingelant.' 
Approach  me  not  with  thine  adulterous  lips ; 
For  very  shame  bend  down  the  eyes  that  fired 
The  accursed  Noron's  lust. 

Lascivious  queen ! 
Go — go — caress  thy  tyrant. 

HAMLET. 

'  O  shame !  where  is  thy  blush  ?  rebellious  heat, 
If  thou  canst  mutiny  in  a  matron's  bones, 
To  flaming  youth  let  virtue  be  as  wax. 
Do  not  look  on  me.' 

PLAUCINA. 

'  Eij  swijg,  o  Hemel !  ach,  wat  moet  ik  hier  al  hooren? 
'K  schrik  voor  mijn  schaduw  self.' 
For  heaven's  sake  cease !   Ah !  what  must  I  not  hear? 
I  start  at  mine  own  shadow. 

GERTRUDE. 

'  O  Hamlet !  speak  no  more, 
Thou  tum'st  mine  eyes  into  my  very  soul.' 

"  The  catastrophe  is  certainly  quite  different.    Torquatus  tri- 
umphs by  means  of  Juliana ;  who,  however,  being  dishonoured 


214        .  GERARD  BRANDT.  [1626- 

himself  competent,  by  four  years  of  study,  to  give 
lessons  in  Theology.  He  afterwards  became  minister 
of  the  Remonstrants  at  Nieuwkoop,  Hoorn,  and  Am- 
sterdam. He  was  greatly  privileged  in  his  children, 
several  of  whom  obtained  a  considerable  literary  re- 
putation. 


TO  SUSANNAH  VAN  BAERLE, 

ON  HER  BIRTH-DAY. 
Wacht  niet  dat  ik  hier  uw  handen. 

Think  not  I  shall  deck  thy  hands 

With  a  silken  ribband  gay 

On  thy  happy  natal  day ; 
For  I  know  thou  hat'st  the  bands, 

by  Noron,  like  Lucretia  destroys  herself.  The  disastrous  end 
of  Hamlet  is  well  known.  Still  the  resemblance  is  sufficiently 
forcible  to  justify  the  question,  Whether  Brandt  was  ac- 
quainted with  Shakspeare,  and  consequently  whether  the  know- 
ledge of  English  literature  about  tlie  middle  of  the  17th  cen- 
tury was  more  universal  than  is  generally  supposed  ?  We  (adds 
Van  Kampen)  believe  this  not  to  have  been  the  case,  at  least 
not  when  Brandt  wrote  this  tragedy.  We  might  more  easily 
imagine  this  of  Huijgens,  although  even  he,  who  understood 
and  translated  some  English  poets  of  mediocrity,  does  not  once 
mention  tlie  incomparable  poet  of  Hamlet  and  Macbeth." 


-1685.]  GERARD  BRANDT.  215 

Yes,  the  show  of  slavery. 
Nor  expect  a  wreath  from  me  ; 

For  the  colours  on  thy  cheek. 

And  thy  breath  of  fragrance  (ne'er 
Flowers  gave  forth  a  breath  so  fair) 

Of  themselves  thy  wreath  can  make. 
But  the  pure,  the  virtuous  truth 
Of  thine  undissembling  youth. 

Even  far  better  garlands  owns. 

Virtues  are  the  noblest  crowns. 


MICHAEL  DE  RUITER. 

Ob  cives  senratoe. 

Aanschouw  den  Helt !  der  staten  rechterhant ! 

Behold  the  hero  !  he  whose  mighty  hand 
From  bondage  sav'd  his  sinking  fatherland ; 
And  made  two  powerful  kingdoms  in  one  year 
Thrice  strike  their  flags  and  leave  the  ocean  clear ; 
His  God's  vicegerent  on  the  boundless  sea. 
And  harbinger  of  peace  and  liberty. 


216  GERARD  BRANDT.  [1626- 

EPITAPH  ON  JACOB  TAURINUS.  , 

Had  Kerk  en  Staat  haar  strijt,  de  Waarhcid  vond  ook  helden. 

Had  Church  and  State  their  strife,  Truth  had  its  cham- 
pions too. 

And  he  was  one.  To  him  a  thousand  wreaths  are  due. 

But  hate  was  sure  too  mild.  What  deeds  had  Tauryn 
done — 

Freedom  of  thought  proclaim'd — his  country's  free- 
dom won  ; 

His  post  unswerving  fill'd — his  Christian  faith  main- 
tain'd  ; 

From  him  all  weakness  fled — with  him  all  justice 
reign 'd ; 

They  call'd  him  heretic — they  drove  him  from  his  land. 

But  God  looks  on  and  holds  the  balance  in  his  hand. 

EPITAPH  ON  KORTENAAR. 

De  held  der  Maas,  verminkt  aan  oog  en  regterhand. 

The  hero  of  the  Maese,  with  shatter'd  eye  and  hand. 

Directs  the  rudder  still  and  saves  his  fatherland  ; 

Him,  Kortenaar  the  great — dread  of  his  country's 
foes — 

The  opener  of  the  Sound — these  funeral  stones  en- 
close. 


1685.]         GERAED  BRANDT.  217 

FERNANDO  ALVAREZ  DE  TOLEDO, 

DUKE  OF  ALVA. 

Maal  Alva,  Neerlandts  roe,  met  verf  van  gal  en  bloet. 

Paint  Alva,  Holland's  scourge,  in  gall  and  gore — 
Hard-hearted — bitter — to  portray  him  more 
Bring  in  the  hundreds  he  to  scaffolds  sent ; — 
The  thousands  driven  to  death  or  banishment ! 


HUGO  DE  GROOT. 

O  Delf,  benij  geen'  Maas  den  grooten  Rotterdammer. 

Delf  ! '  envy  not  the  Maese — let  her  Erasmus  claim : 
De  Groot  is  great  as  he — his  glorious  end  and  aim 
Were  Holland's  happiness  j  but  Discord  would  not 

heed. 
And  unity  was  lost  in  difference  of  creed. 
Could  Holland's  provinces  have  shared  his  noble  mind. 
United  Netherland  had  still  remain'd  combin'd. 


'  Delft  was  the  birth-place  of  Grotius. 
L. 


218  GERARD  BRANDT. 

LAMORAAL, 

KAItL  OF  EGMONT. 
Dit  's  Egmont,  dien  de  nijdt  van  Alva  holp  van  kant. 

Here  Egmont  lies  !  who  fell  through  Alva's  hate — 
The  shield  of  Netherland — the  brave — the  great ! 
Who  made  proud  France  twice  bow  the  trembling  knee. 
While  at  his  fall  fell  right  and  liberty. 


THOMAS  ARENTS. 


l2 


toon^ens  die  op  donzen  vlerkjens  zweven. 

BlLDERDUK. 


THOMAS  ARENTS. 


Thomas  Arents  wrote  in  an  easy  and  flowing  style, 
and  would  without  doubt  have  attained  great  eminence 
as  an  amatory  poet,  had  his  talents  not  been  confined, 
and  his  genius  shackled,  by  the  strict  and  unnatural 
rules  of  a  Society  *  called  Nil  volentibus  arduum,  of 
which  he  was  a  member.  He  attempted  to  defend  it 
against  the  attacks  of  Antonides  and  Joan  Pluijmer, 
who  were  justly  incensed  at  the  restrictions  to  which 
poetry,  especially  the  poetry  of  the  drama,  became 
subjected ;  and  considered  the  Society  in  the  light  of 
a  literary  inquisition. 


Als  ik  mijn  Laura  kusschen  magh. 

I  '0  envy  not  the  Gods*  delight. 
If  I  might  kiss  my  Laura  dearest ; 

Her  eye  to  me  is  far  more  bright 
Than  sun  or  moon  when  shining  clearest. 

*  Founded  by  Andbiu  Pels,  a  poet  of  this  period. 


222  THOMAS  ARENTS. 

Let  Phoebus  with  Aurora  toy 

When  morning's  blush  on  earth  reposes  j 
For  me  'twill  be  diviner  joy 

To  kiss  my  Laura's  cheek  of  roses. 

To  Jove  I  leave  his  Juno's  charms ; 

Let  Bacchus  still  remain  with  Flora  j 
Let  Mars  exult  in  war  and  arms, 

I  'd  rather  be  with  thee,  my  Laura. 


JOANNES  ANTONIDES  VAN   DER 
GOES. 


BORN  164t7 DIED  1684i. 


Zo  is  de  Geest,  zo  eel,  zo  groot, 

Antonides,  de  Prins  der  dichtren,  doot ! 

Dat  helder  licht  van  Neerlant  uitgeschenen ; 

En  als  een  rook,  uit  ons  gezicht  verdwenen  ! 

O  neen,  ik  mis.     Hij  rijst  ter  grafzerke  uit. 

En  leeft  op  nieuws,  gelijk  een  groene  spruit, 

Of  Fenix,  uit  zijn  eigen  asch  geboren. 

En  laat  zich  weer,  gelijk  voorhenen,  horen. 

Dar  zie  ik  heiri  -^—^ 

Francius. 


JOANNES  ANTONIDES  VAN  DER 
GOES. 


J  CANNES  Antonides  Van  DER  GoES  may  be  con- 
sidered among  the  very  first  writers  of  his  country. 
His  Bellone  aan  band  (Bellona  bound),  and  his  Tra- 
gedy, Trazil  of  overrompelt  Sina,  a  Chinese  Drama, 
brought  him  at  an  early  age  into  notice  and  esteem. 
There  is  sometimes  a  careless  looseness  in  his  writ- 
ings ;  but  this  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at,  as  he  was 
only  nineteen  when  his  first  productions  obtained  for 
him  the  eloquent  applauses  of  the  most  distinguished 
men  of  his  day.  The  venerable  Vondel  called  him  his 
son,  and  said  that  he  should  have  been  proud  to  have 
produced  the  Bellone  aan  hand.  Thus  encouraged,  he 
produced  his  admirable  poem  Ystroom  (River Y),  which 
Vondel,  Huijgens,  Fbancius,  Vollexhove,  and 
many  others,  honoured  with  the  highest  eulogies. 
Though  sometimes  his  luxuriant  fancy  becomes  exag- 
gerated and  extravagant,  yet  this  poem  has  many  ner- 
vous and  pictorial  beauties,  striking  Episodes,  and  a 
peculiar  harmony  and  richness  of  language  through- 


226  ANTONIDES  VAN  DER  GOES.        [1647- 

out.  He  obtained  at  Utrecht  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Medicine,  and  practised  with  success,  but  did  not  live 
long  enough  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  industry,  as  he 
died  at  the  age  of  37  years.  His  poems  possess  the 
boldness  and  energy  of  Vondel,  but  less  care  and 
precision — faults  which  a  maturer  age  would  most  pro- 
bably have  taught  him  to  correct.  With  him  the  na- 
tional Drama  of  Holland  was  extinguished,  and  the 
French  stage,  introduced  by  Catherine  Lescaille  and 
Andries  Pels,  obtained  permanent  influence. 

Antonides  was  born  at  Der  Goes  in  1 647,  and  died 
in  1684. 


OVERTHROW  OF  THE  TURKS 

BY  VICE-ADMIRAL  WILLEM  JOSEPH. 

Nec  flanunas  superant  undse. 

Algiers,  het  bloedig  roofschavot 

Algiers,  that  on  the  midland  sea 
Rules  o'er  her  bloody  pirate-horde. 

Sees  now  her  crown  in  jeopardy. 
And  drops  her  cruel  robber  sword. 


-1684.]   ANTONIDES  VAN  DER  GOES.       227 

The  coast  of  Barbary  terrified. 

Trembles  beneath  the  conquerors'  sway  ; 

Our  heroes  on  her  waters  ride. 

While  the  fierce  bandits  in  dismay, 

And  mad  with  plunder  and  with  ire. 

Are  smother'd  in  a  sea  of  fire. 

Thrice  had  the  sun  from  th'  orient  verge 

Into  his  golden  chariot  sprung  j 
From  the  rain-clouds  his  rays  emerge. 

With  brightest  glory  round  him  flung  : 
The  northern  winds  are  rous'd — the  Turk 

Is  borne  along ; — in  vain  he  tries, 
VVhile  terrors  in  his  bosom  lurk. 

To  'scape  our  glance  : — in  vain  he  flies. 
He  may  not  fly — for  he  is  bound 
In  his  pursuers'  toils  around. 

Ye  rapine  vultures  of  the  sea. 

Haste,  haste  before  the  storm  and  stream  ; 
Stretch  out  your  pinions  now,  and  be 

The  fearful  flying  flock  ye  seem. 
No  !  ye  shall  not  escape — for  we 

Have  hemm'd  you  in  on  every  side  ; 
Your  crescent  now  looks  mournfully. 

And  fain  her  paling  horns  would  hide. 
But  no  !  but  no !  ye  shall  be  driven 
From  earth  and  ocean  as  from  heaven. 


228  ANTONIDES  VAN  DER  GOES.         [1647- 

No  !  terror  shakes  the  Afric  strand. 

The  Moor  perceives  his  glory  wane  j 
The  madman  glares  with  fiery  brand. 

As  glares  the  heaven  above  the  main  ; 
The  cannons  rattle  to  the  wind. 

Black  noisome  vapours  from  the  waves 
The  bright-eyed  sun  with  darkness  blind  ; 

And  echo  shouts  from  Nereus'  caves. 
As  if,  with  rage  and  strength  immortal, 
Salmoneus  shook  hell's  brazen  portal. 

How  should  they  stand  against  the  free — 

The  free — the  brave — whom  Ocean's  pride 
Hath  lov'd  to  crown  with  victory. 

Yet  victory  never  satisfied  ? 
The  Amstel's  thunders  roar  around. 

While  the  barbarians  clamour'd  loud. 
And,  scatter'd  on  their  native  ground. 

The  base  retire  before  the  proud  ; 
While  their  sea- standards,  riven  and  torn. 
Are  but  the  noisy  tempest's  scorn. 

There  twice  three  ships  submit  them — led 
By  their  commander — Ocean  's  freed 

From  its  old  tyrants — and  in  dread. 
On  the  wide  waters  when  they  bleed. 


-1684.]   ANTONIDES  VAN  DER  GOES.       229 

From  that  inhospitable  shore 

Upon  the  mingled  flame  and  smoke 

Looks  the  heart-agitated  Moor, 

Whose  power  is  lost,  and  riven  his  yoke  : 

He  stamps  and  curses  as  he  sees 

How  his  fear-stricken  brother  flees. 

O,  ye  have  earn'd  a  noble  meed, 

Brave  Christian  heroes  ! — the  reward 
Of  virtue ; — Gratitude  shall  speed 

Your  future  coiu^e  j  ye  have  unbarr'd 
The  prison  doors  of  many  a  slave. 

Whom  heathen  power  had  bound — and  these 
In  memory's  shrines  your  names  shall  have. 

And  this  shall  be  your  stainless  praise — 
Leaving  sweet  thoughts — as  seamen  ride 
From  land  to  land  o'er  favouring  tide. 


TO  MATILDA, 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  SISTER. 

Wat  schreitge  beijde  uwe  oogen  uit 

Say,  why  should  grief  bedim  thine  eyes. 
And  fill  thy  breast  with  torturing  sighs  ? 
Why  o'er  thy  cheeks,  in  beauty  glowing. 
The  silvery  dew  of  tears  is  flowing  ? 


230       ANTONIDES  VAN  DER  GOES.    [le^T- 

Matilda,  in  thy  youthful  bloom. 

With  passions  bound  by  reason's  chain. 

Why  dost  thou  mourn  thy  sister's  doom 
And  wish  her  soul  on  earth  again  ? 

Her  sorrows  and  her  tears  are  o'er — 

She  hears  thy  bursting  sighs  no  more. 

But  when  her  form  decay'd,  and  went 
To  seek  its  native  element. 
And  be  the  dust  that  it  had  been. 
Thy  pity  cheer'd  Death's  gloomy  scene  : 
Fair  Barbara,  thy  bosom's  dove. 

Beheld,  with  eyes  that  smil'd  in  dying. 
The  tokens  of  thy  stainless  love  ; 

For  thou,  in  heart  and  spirit  sighing, 
Didst  share  a  sister's  dying  pain. 
Nor  breathed  one  tone  of  sorrow  vain. 

From  earthly  dust  for  ever  freed 
She  sits  in  heaven,  (while  blest  indeed 
The  cherubs  come  around  in  crowds,) 
And  presses  with  her  feet  the  clouds. 
Now  seems  to  her  the  world  beneath 

A  little  speck  or  bounded  prison. 
And  from  this  brief  and  transient  death 

E'en  as  a  Phoenix  she  has  risen. 
To  dwell  within  the  azure  sky. 
And  revel  there  eternally. 


-1684;.]        ANTONIDES  VAN  DER  GOES.  231 

Ah  !  there,  where  changeless  joys  abound. 
Our  home,  our  real  home,  is  found. 
But  here  we  're  toss'd  with  hurried  motion 
Upon  the  world's  tempestuous  ocean  ; 
Now  borne  by  tide  or  ebb  along. 

Now  buried  in  the  hissing  foam. 
We  see  the  waves  around  us  throng 

Without  a  haven  or  a  home. 
Think  of  her  bliss,  remov'd  to  be 
From  peril  to  security  ! 

Be  all  that  thou  hast  been — recall 
Thy  energies  of  mind  from  thrall. 
Those  energies  that  so  adorn  thee. 
And  far  above  thy  sex  have  borne  thee, 
And  made  thee  noblest  of  thy  kind  : 

Be  patient,  maid  !  and  seek  to  gather. 
Whilst  sorrow's  weight  is  on  thy  mind. 

True  wisdom  from  thy  God  and  Father  j 
And  think,  in  misery's  hour,  that  she 
Has  but  prepar'd  the  way  for  thee. 


232       ANTONIDES  VAN  DER  GOES. 

EPITAPH 

ON  A  DOUBTING  PHILOSOPHER. 
Tree  zagtjes,  wandelaar,  neen,  tree  vrijmoedig  aen. 
Tread  gently,  traveller ;  but  no — no — 

You  need  not  care  a  whit  about  it, 
Though  he  should  hear  you  come  or  go, 

I  'U  lay  my  very  life  he'll  doubt  it. 


EPITAPH 

ON  THE  NAVAL  WARRIOR  JAN  VAN  AEMSTEL. 
De  grafworm  maerle  vrij  het  koud  gebeent  tot  stof. 

Though  the  vile  grave-worm  waste  to  nought 

The  bones  that  withering  lie  : 
His  virtues  live,  and  fill  the  world 

With  praise  that  cannot  die. 


EPITAPH 

ON  CORNELIS  VAN  ALDEWERELD. 
Vertrouw  op  jeugd  noch  frisse  leen. 

Oh  !  place  in  youth  and  strength  no  trust. 
He  both  could  boast  who  here  is  laid  ; 

Yet  they  have  pass'd,  and  he  is — dust : 
The  loveliest  flow'rets  soonest  fade. 


JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN. 


BORN  1649 — DIED  1707. 


Geen  edel  hart  versmaadt  de  gouden  minneboeijen. 

Poor. 


Die  nimmer  vlarat  op  ijdlen  lof, 

En  zijne  lusten  met  zijn'  hof 

Bepaelt,  en  indrinckt  met  zijne  ooren 

Den  vogelzang.  Vondel. 


JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN. 


1  HIS  author  is  better  known  by  his  latinized  name 
Broekhusius.  His  philological  writings  and  edi- 
tion of  Catullus,  TibuHus  and  Propertius  have  consi- 
derable merit.  The  renowned  Adrian  Junius  was  his 
classical  instructor.  He  practised  medicine  when 
young,  which  he  abandoned  for  a  military  life,  and 
died  in  retirement  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, 

Als  ik  uw  blozend  mondje  druk. 

VVhene'kr  thy  mouth  is  prest  to  mine. 

And  when  my  heart  upon  thy  breast  reposes. 
Whene'er  I  pluck  the  fragrant  roses 
That  hang  in  fondness  round  those  lips  of  thine. 
It  brings,  dear  girl,  no  grief  to  me. 
To  think  I  gave  up  liberty  for  thee. 
Then,  then,  my  soul  floats  on  a  stream  of  blisses. 
Till  it  has  won 
The  gentle  kisses 
That  it  lives  upon. 


236  JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN.  [IG^Q- 

But  when  on  those  bright  orbs  I  gaze. 

Those  orbs  whose  lustre  o'er  my  spirit  glances 
And  blissfully  my  heart  entrances 
With  the  divine  effulgence  of  their  rays  3 
Then  mourn  my  lips,  then  mourn  my  eyes. 
And  each  complains  o'  the  other's  luxuries. 
My  lips  are  envious  of  the  eye's  sweet  pleasure. 
And  the  eye  would  sip 
Ambrosial  treasure 
Like  the  luscious  lip. 

Then  think,  Clorinda,  what  distress. 
What  grief  my  tender  heart  would  visit. 
If  e'er  another  should  solicit 
The  charms  which  I  alone  would  fain  possess  ! 
Whene'er  we  sport  in  dalliance  sweet. 
My  eyes  vnll  scarce  allow  our  lips  to  meet. 
My  lips  are  angry  when  the  eye  in  glory 
Looks  from  its  throne. 
And  tells  a  story 
Sweeter  than  their  own. 


-1707.]  JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN.  2S7 

ELEGIAC  STANZAS. 

Gedachten  vruchteloos  van  welgemeende  min. 

Fruitless  remembrances  of  well-intended  love. 
That  lured  my  guileless  heart  and  stole  its  joys 
away  j 

Ah  !  wring  my  soul  no  more  : — despair  is  now  above 
The  reach  of  thy  base  arts,  thy  false  and  fickle  sway. 

Ah  !  wring  my  sou  no  more  : — but  wouldst  thou  give 
me  rest. 
And  soothe  my  every  pang,  that  power  within  thee 
lies. 
ITien  chase,  I  prithee  chase  the  sighs  that  swell  my 
breast. 
The  murmurs  on  my  lips,  the  tears  within  my  eyes . 

Have  I  then  been  by  thee  in  every  hope  betray'd  ? 

Must  I  from  peace  and  joy  for  ever,  ever  part  ? 
And  am  I  doom'd  to  find  my  dearest  visions  fade. 

And  had  1  but  thy  vows — another  thy  false  heart  ? 

Alas  !  it  is  too  true  ;  farewell  to  peace  and  rest ! 

Farewell,  ye  glowing  charms,  whose  lustre  still  I 
prize ! 
For  you,  for  you  I  die,  with  sighs  in  my  fond  breast. 

And  murmurs  on  my  lips,  and  tears  within  my  eyes. 


238  JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN.  164"9- 

Ik  zugt,  ik  klaag,  ik  ween. 

I  SIGH,  lament  and  moan. 

Whene'er  I  am  alone ; 
And  oh,  my  eyes  in  bitterness  complain. 
Which  dared  to  gaze  on  her  who  caus'd  my  pain. 
At  day-break,  and  when  night  draws  nigh, 
Clorinda  still  dwells  in  my  memory. 
Yes  !  there  the  lovely  image  is  enshrin'd. 
Whose  power  I  feel  for  ever  in  my  mind. 

My  dreams  are  never  free 

From  this  sad  slavery : 
All  other  thoughts  love  in  oblivion  drowns. 
My  heart  throbs  fluttering,  fearful  of  her  frowns ; 
Her  eye  of  light,  her  lip  of  rose. 
Her  dulcet  voice,  her  cheeks,  where  beauty  glows. 
Are  snares  which  lure  the  bosom  that  relies. 
And  wound  the  soul  that  trusts  them  through  the  eyes. 

Then  go,  my  eyes,  and  crave 

Some  pity  for  her  slave  : 
But  let  your  mission  unobtrusive  be. 
Your  language  temper'd  with  humility. 
She  will  not  scorn  the  heart  that  brings 
Its  love  to  her,  and  round  her  mercy  clings. 
But  if  she  do  not  listen  to  your  pray'r. 
Despise  her  heart — self-love  alone  is  there. 


-1707.]  JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN.  239 

SONNET. 

In  over  Rijnse  lugt  bij  daken  onbekent. 

Beyond  the  Rhine,  in  solitudes  and  snows. 

Through  every  starless  night  and  cheerless  day 

I  muse,  and  waste  myself  in  thought  away} 

And  breathe  my  sighs  to  where  the  Amstel  flows. 

My  spring  of  life  is  hastening  to  its  close, 

The  sun  of  youth  emits  its  latest  ray. 

While  grief  asserts  its  most  ungentle  sway. 

And  toils  I  bear,  but  toils  without  repose. 

But,  oh  !  ray  past  enjoyment,  life  and  light ! 

How  soon  would  sorrow  take  its  hurried  flight. 

And  every  thought  that  pains  my  breast  depart. 

If  thou  wert  present  when  my  spirits  pine  ; 

For  thou  wouldst  bring  with  those  sweet  eyes  of  thine, 

A  summer  in  the  land — a  heaven  within  my  heart. 


De  morgenstondt,  gehult  met  straalen. 

The  morning  hour,  its  brightness  spreading. 
In  more  than  common  lastre  rose ; 
And  o'er  day's  portals  sparkling  snows 

And  corals,  gems  of  gold  was  shedding. 


240  JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN.  [1649- 

The  moon  grew  paler — paler  yet. 
And  night,  her  gloomy  face  averting, 
Roll'd  slowly  up  her  misty  curtain. 

And  star  by  star  in  twilight  set. 

Closed  are  the  thousand  eyes  of  heaven. 
And  light  shines  brighter  forth  from  one  j 
And  lo  !  the  bee  comes  forth  alone. 

To  rob  the  rose  and  thyme  till  even. 

The  lordly  lion  wakes  the  wood 

With  mighty  roar — his  eye-ball  flashes  ; 
He  shakes  his  mane,  his  tail  he  lashes  ; 

His  loud  voice  breaks  the  solitude. 

Away,  thou  monarch,  brave,  unshaken ; 

Endymion,  when  he  hears  thy  cries. 

Far  from  the  woods  in  terror  flies. 
And  leaves  his  old  abode  forsaken. 

He  finds  his  mistress  on  the  mead. 

Who,  where  the  shady  boughs  are  twining. 
Upon  the  green  sward  is  reclining. 

And  counts  the  flocks  that  round  her  feed. 

How  gaily  comes  that  maiden  straying. 
Before  the  sheep,  that  fawn  and  play  j 
All  light  and  smiles,  like  dawning  day. 

When  o'er  the  ocean's  bosom  playing.  I 


-1707.]  JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN.  241 

The  lambkin,  youthful  as  the  g^rass. 
As  white  as  snow,  as  soft  as  roses. 
Now  at  her  tarrying  feet  reposes. 

And  now  beside  her  loves  to  pass. 

The  feather'd  choir,  with  songs  of  pleasure. 

Salute  the  sun,  whose  glowing  ray 

Is  shining  on  their  plumage  gay. 
And  glads  their  thousand-chorus  measure. 

What  art  can  equal  the  sweet  notes 
Of  their  wild  lays  in  grief  and  sadness  ? 
What  hand  can  wake  such  tones  of  gladness 

As  flow  from  their  untutored  throats  ? 

The  peasant,  with  the  dawn  beginning. 
Now  yokes  the  oxen  to  the  ploughs. 
And  peasant-girls,  with  laughing  brows. 

Sing  gay  and  cheerily  while  spinning. 

A  varied  sound,  and  fitful  light. 

On  dreams  and  silence  are  encroaching  j 
The  sun  in  glory  is  approaching 

To  wake  to  day  the  slumbering  night. 

The  lover,  who  with  passion  smarted. 
And  sigh'd  his  soul  at  Chloris'  feet. 
Starts  when  he  finds  the  night's  deceit. 

And  Chloris  with  his  dream  departed. 


242  JAN  VAN  BROEKHUIZEN. 

The  busy  smith,  with  naked  arms. 

Whom  sparks  and  blasts  and  flames  environ. 

Beats  sturdily  the  glowing  iron. 
Which  the  loud-hissing  water  warms. 

Come,  let  us  rise  and  wander,  dear  one. 
Our  taper's  flame  is  faint  and  dead. 
The  morning  ray  is  on  our  bed  ; 

Come,  let  us  rise  and  wander,  fair  one  ! 

Come,  rouse,  beloved !  let  us  rove 
Where  'neath  our  welcom'd  steps  are  growing 
Roses  and  lilies,  fair  and  glowing 

As  those  upon  thy  cheeks,  my  love ! 


rillNTEO  BT  RICHARD  TATLOR, 
SHOE-LAKK. 


9^1 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


MAR  2  7 1951 


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1975 


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