Marvell by Andrew Marvell

Author:Andrew Marvell [Marvell, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8041-5296-9
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2014-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

THE CHARACTER OF HOLLAND

Holland, that scarce deserves the name of Land,

As but th’ Off-scouring of the Brittish Sand;

And so much Earth as was contributed

By English Pilots when they heav’d the Lead;

Or what by th’ Oceans slow alluvion fell,

Of shipwrackt Cockle and the Muscle-shell;

This indigested vomit of the Sea

Fell to the Dutch by just Propriety.

Glad then, as Miners that have found the Ore,

They with mad labour fish’d the Land to Shoar;

And div’d as desperately for each piece

Of Earth, as if’t had been of Ambergreece;

Collecting anxiously small Loads of Clay,

Less than what building Swallows bear away;

Or than those Pills which sordid Beetles roul,

Transfusing into them their Dunghil Soul.

How did they rivet, with Gigantick Piles,

Thorough the Center their new-catched Miles;

And to the stake a strugling Country bound,

Where barking Waves still bait the forced Ground;

Building their watry Babel far more high

To reach the Sea, than those to scale the Sky?

Yet still his claim the injur’d Ocean laid,

And oft at Leap-frog ore their Steeples plaid:

As if on purpose it on Land had come

To shew them what’s their Mare Liberum.

A daily deluge over them does boyl;

The Earth and Water play at Level-coyl;

The Fish oft-times the Burger dispossest,

And sat not as a Meat but as a Guest;

And oft the Tritons and the Sea-Nymphs saw

Whole sholes of Dutch serv’d up for Cabillau;

Or as they over the new Level rang’d

For pickled Herring, pickled Heeren chang’d.

Nature, it seem’d, asham’d of her mistake,

Would throw their Land away at Duck and Drake.

Therefore Necessity, that first made Kings,

Something like Government among them brings.

For as with Pygmees who best kills the Crane,

Among the hungry he that treasures Grain,

Among the blind the one-ey’d blinkard reigns,

So rules among the drowned he that draines.

Not who first sees the rising Sun commands,

But who could first discern the rising Lands.

Who best could know to pump an Earth so leak,

Him they their Lord and Country’s Father speak.

To make a Bank was a great Plot of State;

Invent a Shov’l and be a Magistrate.

Hence some small Dyke-grave unperceiv’d invades

The Pow’r, and grows as ’twere a King of Spades.

But for less envy some joynt States endures,

Who look like a Commission of the Sewers.

For these Half-anders, half wet, and half dry,

Nor bear strict service, nor pure Liberty.

’Tis probable Religion after this

Came next in order; which they could not miss,

How could the Dutch but be converted, when

Th’ Apostles were so many Fishermen?

Besides the Waters of themselves did rise,

And, as their Land, so them did re-baptize.

Though Herring for their God few voices mist,

And Poor-John to have been th’ Evangelist.

Faith, that could never Twins conceive before,

Never so fertile, spawn’d upon this shore:

More pregnant then their Marg’ret, that laid down

For Hans-in-Kelder of a whole Hans-Town.

Sure when Religion did it self imbark,

And from the East would Westward steer its Ark,

It struck, and splitting on this unknown ground,

Each one thence pillag’d the first piece he found;

Hence Amsterdam, Turk-Christian-Pagan-Jew,

Staple of Sects and Mint of Schisme grew;

That Bank of Conscience, where not one so strange

Opinion but finds Credit, and Exchange.

In vain for Catholicks our selves we bear;

The universal Church is onely there.

Nor can Civility there want for Tillage,

Where wisely for their Court they chose a Village.

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