Classic Poem

Across the inlet's ebb and rise
The spotless houses glare surprise
From all their gable-hooded eyes
On motley, mingling craft—
The light canoe from wilds remote,
The blunt bateau and market-boat,
And shallop, dugout, skiff, and float
Within “Die Heere Graft.”

The bronze Mohegan brings the spoil
Of wood and river; what the soil
Hath yielded to his sturdy toil,
With plaintive calf and lamb
The farmer hales in groaning dray
Along the forest-bordered way,
For this is held a market day
In fair New Amsterdam.

Like finches, round the market-boats
The rosy vrouws, with kerchiefed throats
And short but ample petticoats
And hoods and kirtles gay,
Are gathering and scattering
And chaffering and chattering,
The Ninth Commandment shattering;
Then hark to what they say!

“Thou coppery knave with the cloven ear!
Pray, what is thy charge for this puny deer?
Twelve stuyvers in wampum! As I'm alive
Such venison wouldn't be cheap at five!
You savages, verily, grow too bold;
Dost fancy our burghers are made of gold?
Go! Take it away to thy woods again!
Eleven thou sayest? I'll give thee ten.”

“Ah, Mevrouw von Blarcom! we meet again!
What news from the village of Vlissingen?
Soh! Adrian Joostan is gone at last!
Poor man; 'tis a mercy his woes are past.
Yea? Journeyed to Hartford hath Pieter Volck!
How reckless to trust to the Yankee folk!
Nay, little of moment hath passed in town.
The governor's dame hath a silken gown.
Hast heard of the strife 'twixt our Dominie
Bogardus and Antony Jan Salee?

“The trouble was started, so all avow,
By Anneke Jansen, the Dominie's vrouw,
Who, chatting one Saturday over her tea,
Spake somewhat unkindly of Vrouw Salee;
Mayhap that her linens were none too clean,
Her servants ill-bred, or her larder lean.
Whatever she said of her, I'll be bound
It lost not a jot as it traveled round;
And, truthful or slanderous, let that be,
It kindled the wrath of the Vrouw Salee,
Who rushed to her friends with a look intense
To tell them, in veriest confidence,
How, crossing a street of this muddy town,
Good Madam Bogardus had raised her gown—
M-m, higher than prudent. Yea, showed, indeed,
Well—more of her ankles than there was need!

“Then such a commotion you never saw!
Vrouw Anneke vowed she would have the law.
The Dominie sued for his dame (of course
Thou knowest the mare is the better horse).
The Schepens with sober and solemn face
Examined and pondered the weighty case,
And sentenced poor Madam Salee to tell
In public, at sound of the crier's bell,
That falsely she'd spoken—alack, the shame!—
And the Dominie's wife was a worthy dame.
Moreover, her husband hath sadly paid
Three guilders and more for his wife's tirade.

“Good faith! but our magistrates win applause,
So wisely and well they enforce the laws!
For truly the tongue is a two-edged sword,
And Slander's a monster that stalks abroad,
Devouring all with a mouth of flame;
And no one is safe from the smudge of blame.
(But—this is in confidence 'twixt us two—
I firmly believe that the tale was true!)”