Onze Eeuw. Jaargang 9

[p. 1]

[Derde deel]

The star of Holland
Door David Jayne Hill.

Land of the opal skies, and sea-lashed dunes

That hedge thy verdant pastures from the wave,

Whereon thy sturdy sons in peace and war

Have wrought their mighty miracles of toil,

How steadfastly, these many weary moons,

Have waited on the sovereign boon they crave

The eager watchers for the rising star, -

The seal of Heaven on happy Holland's soil!

March piped the Northwind's blatant tempest-horn

With that stern music of the troubled main

Which roared when Tromp once swept the narrow seas

And sounded oft through Ruyter's flowing sails;

Still to this challenge thus so rudely borne

No answer came, and long delay again

Left the mute watchers on their patient knees

Till March had blown his breath away in gales!

Then April wept, and smiling through her tears

Spread her bright blossoms on the radiant field, -

Rewards of patience, proving that the good

We cannot force from Nature's careful hand

Will come in her own way, despite our fears;

For every sower must await the yield

Of Nature's prudent bounty, and her mood

Is coy and maidenlike in every land.

[p. 2]

 

So, not from blustering wind and darkening cloud,

 

Nor from afar, as from some distant sphere,

 

But from the soil, a tribute of the deep,

 

Blooms the fair flower of dear Holland's fate.

 

While April's blossoms all the fields enshroud,

 

And beauty's vernal wreath is woven here,

 

Wakes smiling, as from some mysterious sleep,

 

An Orange Blossom, - fairest flower's mate!

 

 

 

'T is not in some far constellation's blaze

 

That men must seek the guerdon of their hopes,

 

But in the land itself, in home-born strength,

 

The flower and fruitage of a fertile past.

 

Each people, in its God-appointed ways,

 

Moves on its upward or its downward slopes

 

Propelled by aspirations which at length

 

Shape the decrees by which its fate is cast.

 

 

 

Serene among the nations, Holland smiles,

 

A land of flowers, fair sister of the Sea!

 

Her orange-tree still green, and blooming still,

 

New grafted from a venerable stock.

 

And yet no summer dalliance beguiles

 

The spirit of the wise, where'er they be;

 

And here a race of yet unconquered will

 

Has learned to build against an ocean's shock.

 

 

 

Thrice happy art thou, Holland, in thy star!

 

Which sends no warrior panoplied in arms

 

To counsel doubtful ventures for the State;

 

Yet all incarnate is the nation's life,

 

Not poised upon the cruel chance of war

 

Nor charged with less bewildering alarms,

 

But regal still in loveliness so great

 

That all must bow without a thought of strife!

 

 

 

Land of the freeborn soul! where conscience spoke

 

In the dark days when reason's voice was stilled,

[p. 3]

 

Here for the first unfettered human thought

 

Found an asylum from unhallowed might.

 

The darkness vanished with the tyrant's yoke

 

Where states were born because the people willed

 

And nations gather where the truth was sought

 

To seek for justice in a land of light!

 

 

 

Long may the throne of love and law endure,

 

Protected by the glad consent of all,

 

While mothers watch and fathers toil amain

 

To sweeten life with industry and care.

 

And thus at last may human weal procure

 

Its full security, and nothing fall

 

Of all that time has won and won again

 

To make for man the troubled world more fair.