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,—
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,—
