Poems (Terry, 1861)/Le juif errant
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LE JUIF ERRANT.(Béranger.)
Christian, to a suffering traveller
Give a draught of water at thy gate!
I am he, the ever-wand'ring Hebrew,
Hurried on by whirlwinds to my fate.
Never older, though surviving ages,
Toward the world's far end I turn mine eyes,
Every night I hope will know no morrow,
Every morning sees the sun arise.
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Give a draught of water at thy gate!
I am he, the ever-wand'ring Hebrew,
Hurried on by whirlwinds to my fate.
Never older, though surviving ages,
Toward the world's far end I turn mine eyes,
Every night I hope will know no morrow,
Every morning sees the sun arise.
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Ah! for eighteen lingering cycles,
Over silent Greek and Roman ashes,
Over ruins of a thousand kingdoms,
Me the wild, unsparing whirlwind dashes.
I have seen the germ of virtue fruitless,—
I have seen how fruitful ill can be,
And to live beyond the old world's glory,
Two new worlds arising from the sea.
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Over silent Greek and Roman ashes,
Over ruins of a thousand kingdoms,
Me the wild, unsparing whirlwind dashes.
I have seen the germ of virtue fruitless,—
I have seen how fruitful ill can be,
And to live beyond the old world's glory,
Two new worlds arising from the sea.
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
God for punishment hath changed me.
Love to all that die my worn heart bears.
But the wretch for whom a home is smiling,
Far from all the sudden whirlwind tears.
Many a beggar comes with eye imploring
For the boon wherewith alone I bless,
Who can find no pause to grasp, in passing,
Even the hand I long in his to press.
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Love to all that die my worn heart bears.
But the wretch for whom a home is smiling,
Far from all the sudden whirlwind tears.
Many a beggar comes with eye imploring
For the boon wherewith alone I bless,
Who can find no pause to grasp, in passing,
Even the hand I long in his to press.
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Underneath the tree in blossom,
On the turf, or where cool waves rejoice,
If T strive to soothe my lonely anguish,
Loud I hear the whirlwind's raging voice.
Ah! what matters it, thou angry heaven,
This short respite snatched from wrath divine?
Is then all eternity sufficient
To repose from such a toil as mine?
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
On the turf, or where cool waves rejoice,
If T strive to soothe my lonely anguish,
Loud I hear the whirlwind's raging voice.
Ah! what matters it, thou angry heaven,
This short respite snatched from wrath divine?
Is then all eternity sufficient
To repose from such a toil as mine?
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Sometimes bright and happy children,
Of my own, retrace the imaged forms;
If the sight refresh my longing vision,
Lo! the whirlwind hurls its furious storms.
Ah! old men, what price untold could tempt ye
Me to envy life's unsetting day?
These fair children whom I smile in greeting—.
Soon my feet shall brush their dust away.
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Of my own, retrace the imaged forms;
If the sight refresh my longing vision,
Lo! the whirlwind hurls its furious storms.
Ah! old men, what price untold could tempt ye
Me to envy life's unsetting day?
These fair children whom I smile in greeting—.
Soon my feet shall brush their dust away.
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
If the city of my fathers
Not entirely to the dust has gone,
And I strive to linger by its ruins,
Still the fearful whirlwind thunders "On!"
"On!" and also cries that voice of terror,
"Rest remains when all beside shall die.
Do not they who sleep among thy fathers
In their tomb, thy place of rest deny?"
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Not entirely to the dust has gone,
And I strive to linger by its ruins,
Still the fearful whirlwind thunders "On!"
"On!" and also cries that voice of terror,
"Rest remains when all beside shall die.
Do not they who sleep among thy fathers
In their tomb, thy place of rest deny?"
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
I outraged, with laugh inhuman,
Thine expiring pangs, thou Son of God!
Look! beneath my feet the road is flying—
Hark! the whirlwind hurries me abroad.—
Ye whose hearts to charity are strangers,
Tremble at the awful doom I bear.
'Tis not God's divine, eternal nature,
'Tis humanity avenged here!
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!
Thine expiring pangs, thou Son of God!
Look! beneath my feet the road is flying—
Hark! the whirlwind hurries me abroad.—
Ye whose hearts to charity are strangers,
Tremble at the awful doom I bear.
'Tis not God's divine, eternal nature,
'Tis humanity avenged here!
Evermore
Turns the earth I wander o'er;
Evermore, evermore!