Classic Poem

Le Juif errant.

Christian! a fainting traveller to restore,
Oh, place a cup of water at thy door!
I am, in sooth, I am that wandering Jew,
Whom aye a whirlwind seemeth to pursue
Ne'er growing old, howe'er by age opprest —
With the world's end my only dream of rest —
Aye, when eve comes, I trust my race is run,
But aye each morrow brings its rising sun
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever where I press the ground,
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever rolleth Earth around.

Through eighteen centuries, as they've held their way —
O'er ashes left by Greek and Roman sway —
O'er ruins of a thousand states — alas!
The terrible whirlwind still hath made me pass
Good have I seen, whose buds would bear no fruit;
Seen far and wide calamities take root;
And, to survive the ancient world, mine eyes
Have seen two worlds from out the waves arise
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever where I press the ground,
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever rolleth Earth around.

God's hand hath changed me, that he might chastise —
Fain would I bind myself to all that dies;
But from each kind and hospitable roof
The sudden whirlwind hurries me aloof:
And many a beggar hath to me appealed
For such assistance as 'tis mine to yield,
Who had not time to clasp the friendly hand,
I love to stretch, in hurrying through the land
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever where I press the ground,
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever rolleth Earth around.

If at the foot of flowering shrubs, alone,
By gentle waters, on the green sward thrown,
For one short moment I my woes forget,
I hear the whirlwind that is raving yet.
Ah! why should Heaven, by thoughts of vengeance swayed,
Begrudge one instant passed beneath the shade?
What but a whole eternity of rest,
After such toils, could make the wanderer blest?
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever where I press the ground,
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever rolleth Earth around.

How oft do children, with their gay glad tone,
Before me bring the image of mine own!
But when mine eyes I feast upon the sight,
The angry whirlwind howleth in its might.
Ye, who are old, at any price can ye
My long career with envy dare to see?
Those joyous children mark — yet but a while,
My feet shall sweep their dust on whom I smile!
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever where I press the ground,
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever rolleth Earth around.

If I, perchance, some traces should behold
Of the loved walls, where I was born of old,
Stiffly I set myself to halt — but no —
Still the harsh whirlwind bids me onward go.
" On! " cries the voice; yet, yet, I hear it call —
" Rest standing thou, whilst all around thee fall
Here in the tomb where thy forefathers sleep,
No place for thee beside them could they keep "
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever where I press the ground,
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever rolleth Earth around.

Yes, I, ah me! a jest inhuman passed
On Him, the Man-God, as he breathed his last
But lo! beneath my feet my pathway flies;
Farewell! its force the restless whirlwind plies.
Ye, who to kindly charities are cold,
My fearful punishment with awe behold!
Not the offended majesty of God,
But wronged humanity provokes the rod.
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever where I press the ground,
Ever, ever, evermore,
Ever rolleth Earth around.