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Chorus of Batavian Women
(From the Batavian Brothers)
Translated by John Bowring
Strophe 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 | 5 |
| Might to his neighbor trust; | |
| The common plough turned up the common land, | |
| And Nature scattered joy with liberal hand. | |
| The humble cot of clay | |
| Kept the thick shower, the wind, and hail away. | 10 |
| Upon the frugal board | |
| No luxuries were stored; | |
| But ’neath a forest-tree the table stood,— | |
| A simple plank, unpolished and rude: | |
| Our feasts the wild game of the wood, | 15 |
| 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. | 20 |
| Then was the stranger and the neighbor each | |
| Welcomed with cordial thoughts and honest speech; | |
| And days flowed cheerful on, as days should flow, | |
| Unmoved by distant or domestic woe. | |
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Antistrophe Then was no value set on silver things, | 25 |
| Nor golden stores, nor coin, nor dazzling rings; | |
| They bartered 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, | 30 |
| 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; | |
| But in wide scattered villages they spread | 35 |
| Where stand no friendly lamps above the head: | |
| Rough and undeckt the simple cot, | |
| With the rich show of pomp encumbered not. | |
| As when in decorated piles are seen | |
| The bright fruits peeping through the foliage green; | 40 |
| 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; | |
| Some place of shelter dug, dark, dreary, far, | 45 |
| For the dread hour of danger or of war, | |
| When the stray pirate broke on the serene | |
| And cheerful quiet of that early scene. | |
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Strophe No usurer, then, with avarice’ burning thirst, | |
| His fellow-men had curst; | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| To take their fathers’ place. | |
| If e’er dispute or discord dared intrude, | |
| ’T was soon, by wisdom’s voice, subdued; | |
| The wisest then was called to reign, | |
| The bravest did the victory gain: | 60 |
| The proud were made to feel | |
| They must submit them to the general weal; | |
| For to the proud and high a given way | |
| Was marked, that thence they might not stray;— | |
| And thus was freedom kept alive. | 65 |
| Rulers were taught to strive | |
| For subjects’ happiness, and subjects brought | |
| The cheerful tribute of obedient thought; | |
| And ’t was indeed a glorious sight | |
| To see them wave their weapons bright: | 70 |
| No venal bands, the murderous hordes of fame; | |
| But freedom’s sons,—all armed in freedom’s name. | |
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Antistrophe No judge outdealing justice in his hate, | |
| Nor in his favor.—Wisdom’s train sedate | |
| Of books and proud philosophy | 75 |
| 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 | 80 |
| 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 | 85 |
| Into the mysteries of the Deity; | |
| They never weighed his schemes, nor judged his will, | |
| But saw his works, and loved and praised him still; | |
| Obeyed in awe, kept pure their hearts within, | |
| For this they knew,—God hates and scourges sin: | 90 |
| Some dreams of future bliss were theirs, | |
| To gild their joys and chase their cares; | |
| And thus they dwelt, and thus they died, | |
| With guardian-freedom at their side, | |
| The happy tenants of a happy soil, | 95 |
| Till came the cruel stranger to despoil. | |
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Epode But, O, that blessed time is past; | |
| The strangers now possess our land; | |
| Batavia is subdued at last,— | |
| Batavia fettered, ruined, banned! | 100 |
| Yes! honor, truth, have taken flight | |
| To seats sublimer, thrones more pure. | |
| Look, Julius! from thy throne of light, | |
| See what thy Holland’s sons endure; | |
| Thy children still are proud to claim | 105 |
| 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; | 110 |
| 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. | |
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