THE CHARACTER OF HOLLAND.

HOlland, that scarce deserves the name of Land,
As but th' Of-scowring 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 Mussle shell;
This Indigested Vomit of the Sea
Fell to the Dutch by just Proprietie.
Glad then, as Miners that have found the Ore,
They with mad labour fish'd the Land to Shore;
And div'd as desperately for each piece
Of Earth, as if 't had been of Ambergris;
Collecting anxiously small Loads of Clay,
Lesse then what building Swallows beare away;
Or then those Pils which sordid Beetles roule
Transfusing into them their Dunghill Soule.
How did they rivet with Gigantick Piles
Thorow the Center their new-catched Miles:
And to the Stake a struggling Country bound,
Where barking waves, still baite the forced ground;
Building their watry Babel far more high
To reach the Sea, then 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 show them what's their Mare Liberum.
[Page 3] A daily Deluge over them does boyle:
The Earth and Water play at Level coyle.
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 Levell 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 & Drake.
Therefore necessity, that first made Kings,
Somthing like Government among them brings.
For as with Pygmees, who best kills the Crane;
Among the hungry, he that treasures Graine;
Among the blind, the one-ey'd blinkard reigns;
So rules among the drowned, he that drains.
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 & Countrys Father speak.
[Page 4] To make a Bank was a great Plot of State,
Invent a Shovel and be Magistrate.
Hence some small Dyke-grave, unperceiv'd in­vades
The power, & grows as t'were a King of Spades:
But for lesse envy some joynt States endures,
Who looke 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 Fisher-men?
Beside the Waters of themselves did rise,
And as their Land, so them did rebaptize.
Though Herring to be God few voices mist,
And Poore-Iohn to have been th' Evangelist.
Faith, that could never Twins conceive before,
Never so fertile, Spavvn'd upon this Shore:
More pregnant then their Marg'et, that laid down
For Hans-in-Kelder of a vvhole 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-Iew,
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 beare,
The Universal Church is onely There.
Nor can Civility there want for Tillage,
Where wisely for their Court they chose a Village.
How fit a Title clothes their Governors;
Themselves the Hog's, as all their Subjects Bores.
Let it suffice to give their Country Fame,
That it had one Civilis call'd by Name;
Some Fifteen Hundred, and more Years agoe,
But surely never any that was so.
See but their Mermaids, with their tails of fish,
Reeking at Church over the Chafing-Dish.
A Vestal turf enshrin'd in Earthen ware,
Fumes through the loop-holes of a wooden square
Each to the Temple with these Altars tend,
(But still do's place it at her Western end:)
While the fat steame of Female Sacrifice
Fills the Priests Nostrils, and puts out his Eyes.
Or what a spectacle the Skipper grosse,
A Water-Hercules, Butter-Colosse,
Tunn'd up with all their several Towns of Beere;
When staggring upon some Land, Snick and Sneer,
They try, like Statuaryes, if they can
Cut out each others Athos to a Man;
And carve in their large bodies, where they please,
The Armes of the United Provinces:
Vainly did this Slap-Dragon fury hope,
With sober English valour ere to cope:
Not though they Primed their barbarous mor­nings-draught
With Powder, and with Pipes of Brandy fraught:
Yet Rupert, Sandwich, and of all, the Duke,
The Duke has made their Sea-sick courage puke.
Like the three Comets, sent from heaven down
With Fiery Flailes to swinge th' ingratefull Clown.
FINIS.

London, Printed by T. Mabb for Robert Horn at the Angel in Popes-head alley, 1665.

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