The Breitmann Ballads Part 21

'Tvas here, oopon de Spadoumont Deir gottashe used to set; 'Tvas here they keeped von simple cow Likevise an lettuce-bett.

Berhaps I hafe crown vorldly since, Yet shdill may druly say, Dat in mine poyhood's tays I vas Apout so good ash dey.

But he vot vant to see dis land, Und has nod time for all: Eash woodland nook und shady brook; On Herr Marcette shouldt call.

For he has baintet all to live Vhen de drees demselfs are gone; Und shoost so goot as artist, auch, Ish he bon compagnon.

Farevell, schveet Spa - dou home of vlowers, Of ruin and of rock, Vhere vild pirds sing und de band ish blay Eash day at sefen o'clock.

If all de shbrees dat Spa has seen Vere melted into von, De soul vouldt reach Nirwana - lost In transcendental fun.

OSTENDE.

"Hupsa! jonker Jan, Die wel ruiter worden kan."

BOON tidings to der Breitmann came Ash he at table end, Dere's right goot fisch at Blankenberghe, Und oysters in Ostend.

Denn to Ostland ve will reiten gaen, To Ostland o'er de sand, Dou und I mit pridle drawn For dere ish de oyster land.

Und vhen dey shtood bei Ostersee, Vhere de waters roar like sin, Dere coom five hundert fischer volk To dake der Breitmann in.

"Gotts doonder! Should ve doomple down Amoong de waters plue, I kess you'd vant more help from me Dan I should vant from you!

"If you hat peen vhere I hafe peen Und see vot I hafe see, Vhere de surf rise oop nine tausend feet, In de land of Nieuw Jarsie Und schwimmed dat surf ash I hafe schwimmed, Peside de Jersey stran'"- From dat day fort' de Ostland men Shdeered glear of der Breitemann.

Boot von ding set him schvearin so, I d.i.n.ked he'd nefer cease, De Ostend oysters kostet more In Ostend als Paris.

Hans asked an anciendt fisherman, To 'splain dis if he may, Und says he, "Mijn Heer - dey're beter hier Als ein hundert leagues afay.

"Und as de oysters beter hier Of course dey kostet more"- Der Breitmann dook his bilcrim shdaff, Und toorned him to de toor.

Says Hans, "De Vlaemsche fischermen Can sheat de vorldt I pet Dey sheaten von anoder too, All's fisch to a Dutchman's net.

"Der king peginned a palace hier, De palace hat to shtop, He foundt de beoples sheaten so He gife de bildin oop.

Aldough das Leben hier ish goot, Ad least Ostend-sibly"- So shpoke der Breitemann und cut Dat city py de sea.

GENT.

"Wie kennt die stad waer alles nog Van Vlaenderens grootheid spreekt?

Waer ontrouw, valschheid en bedrog Van schaemte nog verbleekt?"

- Ledeganck.

If I hat gold, as I hafe time, I tells you how 'tvere shpent, On efery year I'd shtay a week In Vlanderen's hoofstad, Gent.

For, oh! de sveet wild veelins, In dat stad do mofe me so, Vhen I'd d.i.n.k of all de clorious men Vot life dere long aco.

If efer man hat manly heart, He'd veel dat heart to beat, Vhen mit de oldten dime of Ghent He valks troo efery shdreet.

Und ach! de volk are yet so goot, It gave me soosh a pliss, Vhen I hear a bier-hous spielman sing A melodie like dis:-

"Het was op eenen Monday, All on a Monday free, Dat mijnheere Jacob Van Artevelde Unto his men said he: He seide - 'Mijn lief gesellen, Ve all moost ride out land, And trive our way to Bruges town Or Brussel in Braband.'

"Und as he oonto Brussel cam, De meisjes sp.r.o.ng from bed, Und found Mynheere Van Artevelde Mit a cross-bolt troo his head."

Und shoost pecause dis bier-hous song Recht troo my heartsen vent, I feel dat I could life und die All in de down of Gent.

BREITMANN IN HOLLAND.

'S GRAVENHAGE - THE HAGUE.

IN dis boem, mein freund der Herr Breitmann hafe his fiews on art pefore-geset mit a deepness und shorthood vich is bropably oonliked in Aesthetik. Ve hafe here, within de circ.u.mcomprehensifeness of dirty-two lines, a theorie vitch - shortsomely exbressed - sends to der teufel efery dings ash vas efer gescribed pefore on kunst or art, und maket efery podies from Baumgartner doun to Fischer und Taine, look shoost like puddin-headet old gasbalgs. Boot to de boem. For de informadion of dem ash ish not gestudied art, I vould shtate dat Adriaan Brauwer (who ish as regards an unvollkomene technik de first of all Holland malers), vas nefer paint nodings boot droonken plackguards und liederlich dings, und Van Ostade und Jan Steen vas in most deir bilds a goot deal like him.

- FRITZ SCHWACKENHAMMER.

Hans reitet troo de Nederland, From Rotterdam below, To Gravenhaag und Leyden Und Haarlem - all a row; He shtoodit in de galleries A tausend works of art; Boot ach - der Adriaan Brauwer, Vent most teepest to his heart.

Und dus exglaim der Breitmann In woonder-solemn shdrain, "De cratest men vere Brauwer, Van Ostade, und Jan Steen.

Der Raffael vas vel enof; Dat ish in his shmall vay; Boot - Gott im Himmel! - vot vas he Coompared mit soosh as dey?

"Shoost see dat vight of troonken boors- Von tears de oder's goat: Vhile de oder mit a pointet knife Ish goin for his troat.

Und a madchen mit a tree-leg shtuhl Ish clip him on de het, In dese higher human pa.s.sion valks, Der Raffael's coldt und deadt.

"De more ve digs into de eart'- Or less ve seeks a star,- De nearer ve to Natur coom, More pantheistich far; To him who reads dis myst'ry right, Mit insbiration gifen, Der Raffael's rollen in de dirt, Vhile Brauwer soars to Heafen.

LEYDEN.

TIS shveet to valk in Holland towns Apout de twilicht tide, Vhen all ish shdill on proad ca.n.a.ls, Safe vhere a poat may clide.

Shdrange light on darkenin vater falls, In long soft lines afar, Der abenddroth on dunkelheit, Vitch shows - or hides - a star.

De pridges risen all aroundt So quaindly, left und right, Pedween each pridge und shattow, lies, A lemon of yellow light, Und das volk a-goin ober, So darklin onwarts pa.s.s, Dey look like Chinese shattows - shown Apofe a lookin-gla.s.s.

All shdiller grows, und shdiller, Sogar die efenin preeze, Ish only heardt far ober het In dese long lines of drees; A real oldt Holland feelin Cooms gadderin ober all, You'd nefer d.i.n.k a sturm hat peen Oopon dis Grand Canawl.

De nople houses! - how dey'd mofe An old New Yorker's heart, Time vas - twix dese und dose at home You couldn't tell 'em part, Mit crate bra.s.s knockers on de toors, Und parlors town so low You see de crates a glowin prite O'er carbets ash you go.

Dere's comfort-full of avery dings, You veel it ash you look, You knows de volks ish opulend, Und keep a bully cook; Und oopon de high camine, Or here und dere on shelf, Dere's j.a.panesisch dings in rows, Pe mingled oop mit delf.

Dere's noding in dis Holland life, Vitch seems of present day, De fery shildren in de shdreeds Look quaintlich as dey blay; De liddle rosy housemaids, In bicdures vell I know, De dames und heers hafe all an air Of sixdy years ago.

They may dalk of anciendt hishdory Und for romantisch seek, De ding dat mofes most teeply ish Old-vashioned - not antique.

O if you live in Leyden town You'll meet, if troot' pe told, De forms of all de freunds who tied Vhen du werst six years old.

SCHEVENINGEN, OR DE MAIDEN'S COORSE.

Oldt Flamisch.

HET vas Mijn Heer van Torenborg, Ride oud oopon de sand, Und vait to hear a paardeken; Coom tromplin from de land.

He vaited vhen de boeren volk Vent oud oopon de plain, He vaited dill de veary crows Flew nestwarts home acain.

He vaited ash de wild fox vaits In long-some hoonger noth, He vaited dill de flitterin bats Vere plack on Abendroth.

Id's woe to watch for taily bread Or bide forgotten call, Boot oh, to vait for heartsen lofe Ish veariest of dem all.