COME list, my dear, And you shall hear About the wonderful Wandering Jew, Who night and day, The legends say, Is taking a journey he never gets through. What is his name, Or whence he came, Or whither the weary wanderer goes; Or why he should stray In this singular way, Many have marveled, but nobody knows. Though oft, indeed (As you may read In ancient histories quaint and true), A man is seen Of haggard mien Whom people call the Wandering Jew. Once in Brabant, With garments scant, And shoeless feet, a stranger appeared His step was slow, And white as snow Were his waving locks and flowing beard. His cheek was spare, His head was bare; And little he recked of heat or cold; Misfortune's trace Was in his face, And he seemed at least a century old. "Now, goodman, bide," The people cried, "The night with us, -- it were surely best; The wind is cold, And thou art old, And sorely needest shelter and rest!" "Thanks! thanks!" said he, "It may not be That I should tarry the night with you; I cannot stay; I must away, For I, alas! am the Wandering Jew!" "We oft have read," The people said, "Thou bearest ever a nameless woe; Now prithee tell How it befell That thou art always wandering so?" "The time would fail To tell my tale, And yet a little, ere I depart, Would I relate About my fate, For some, perhaps, may lay it to heart. "When but a youth (And such, in sooth, Are ever of giddy and wanton mood), With tearless eye I saw pass by The Saviour bearing a hateful rood. "And when he stooped. And, groaning, drooped And staggered and fell beneath the weight, I cursed his name, And cried, 'For shame! Move on, blasphemer, and meet thy fate!' "He raised his head, And, smiling, said: 'Move on thyself! In sorrow and pain, When I am gone Shalt thou move on, Nor rest thy foot till I come again!' "Alas! the time That saw my crime, -- 'T was more than a thousand years ago! And since that hour Some inward power Has kept me wandering to and fro. "I fain would die That I might lie With those who sleep in the silent tomb; But not for me Is rest, -- till He Shall come to end my dreadful doom. "The pestilence That hurries hence A thousand souls in a single night Brings me no death Upon its breath, But passes by in its wayward flight. "The storm that wrecks A hundred decks, And drowns the shuddering, shrieking crew, Still leaves afloat The fragile boat That bears the life of the Wandering Jew. "But I must away; I cannot stay; Nor further suffer a moment's loss; Heed well the word That ye have heard, -- Nor spurn the Saviour who bore the Cross!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO W.P.: 3 by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE WALKER OF THE SNOW by CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY VENICE by JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS AN ACTOR'S REMINISCENCES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) PSALM 18. DILIGAM TE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |