Verse > Anthologies > Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. > Poems of Places > Spain, &c.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed.  Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and Holland: Vols. XIV–XV.  1876–79.
Introductory to Holland
Bishop Pierre Daniel Huet (1630–1721)
(From an Imitation of Horace)
Translated by J. Duncombe

IN four days Zealand’s coasts appear,
And a wished port we find at Veer.
Thence Middleburgh by land we gain;
Next morn once more we tempt the main;
And soon with joy at Dort arrive,        5
Whence Maese and Waal unite to drive
With kindred streams invading foes,
And every bold attack oppose.
  At Rotterdam, with reverence due;
Erasmus my attention drew;        10
Then Delft, where thy proud tomb, Nassau,
Claims equal reverence, equal awe!
  At Leyden we reposed that night;
And, with the next returning light,
Received the welcome of a pair,        15
Distinguished by Apollo’s care,—
Saumaise and Heinsius, whom the Nine
Have blessed with all their warmth divine!
The public library surveyed,
And anatomic hall, we strayed        20
Among the choice exotic trees,
And saw whate’er could strangers please.
  At Haerlem, our next stage, just fame
For the first printing-press they claim,
And for the ships, with saw-like prows,        25
Fatal to their Pelusian foes.
  To Amsterdam we haste, and there
With looks which heartfelt joy declare,
Choice friends our wished arrival greet;
Bochart and Vossius there we meet,        30
And (though unmentioned) numbers more,
All bound to Sweden’s distant shore.
How pleasant, when abroad we roam,
To find the friends most loved at home!
*        *        *        *        *
  To Utrecht then we take our way,        35
And there to matchless Schurman pay
Our due respects, her sex’s pride;
With admiration I descried
The virgin’s works of every kind,
The labors of her hands and mind.        40
  Departing thence, at night we meet
With paltry lodgings at Elspeet;
Holm dishes held our rustic cheer,
Straw was our bedding, threshed this year.
  From thence next day to Zwoll we went,        45
Where his long life good Kempis spent,
And still his pious fame survives,
And in his grateful country lives.

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