The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1868-06-03
aGI9CELLANK
Tho Wandering Jewess.
DI JANE T. Il. GROSS.

- :. :,
Tho Wandering Jevveis. ~
BY JANE T. II. GROSS. 10. ~
'Onee every hundred years the Wander,
ing Jew and the Wandering Jewess, ap-
proaoh Behring's Strait, and, kneeiing,
vainly stretch forth their arn1s over the
water toward each other."-0ld Legend.
Once moro hundred years have passed,
hundred Years. years with all their toll and
pain;
Once more Iknecl upon this icy shore,
And reach my arms to thee, but reach
in vain;
wait, 80 wearily, wait;
One pressure Of thy hand crave;
Between us rolls the sullen wave
The cruel wave Of Behring's Strait.
I've strsyod through forest green and
blooming dell,
Have heard the gladstone children at
~ their play,
Have seen collected round the ancient
well
Young men and maidens at the close OF
day;
And on rve walked by gate and stile.
Nor rested meath the shady tree,
Where oil might rest-yes, all but
But on Ire walked through many
mile.
I've gone through scenes OF rcvel, mad
and wild,
Have passed unheeded through the
city's din,
And threaded haunts of want, and crime,
Then on I've walked by hall and hut
Nor wept with these, nor smiled with
those;
: (: Is Alone bore my weight of woes,
For eycry heart was closely shut.
I've seen the foolisl, tears that mortals
shed
Tho tear is dried, the little life is past;
They sleep, oh, God! so calmly midst the
dead!
Why weep for woes which never long
may last?
While wrecks of years around me lie,
shed no tear; l still walk OIL
Aye, centuries have come and gone,
But on walk with fearless eye.
I've lived and lived, and weary am of life
Would 1t might cease-this maddening
This everlasting war of sin md strife,
This suffering with it's never ending
ra moan;
And stilI moro tiresome is the mirth,
The senseless joy, the giddy dance,
On which the centuries advance,
And trample them unto the EARTH
And what are frionds? Full fifty ages gone
had friend whose life was twined with
Her presence Like star about me shone,
Her love was like the fragrant breath OF
wine;
But she was happy, for she died
More Than a Thousand years ago;
And still feel the fatal blow
That took her, blooming, from my side.
I seek her grave-men say I must be
craZed;
They laugh and jeer whene'er I ask the
The very city where she lived is RACED,
Its towers, its walls, it's site are all
forgot.
My pretty babes 80 full Of glee
Arc dead know not where they
I say this with fearless eye;
"They used to play about my knee"
None joy or grieye to see me come or 20,
No sympathizing glance recalls the past;
This deathless life-this never-ending woe:
All, may hope that it shall end at last?
can't grow old, I cannot die,
Irange and still forever range,
tire OF change that is no change,
And look on all with vacant eye.
And only thou canst understand nv diree,
Thou wanderer, too, upon the teeming
earth;
Once in q hundred years our paths con-
verge
This is our death, and this another
birth
Surrounded by eternal SHOWS,
Where icebergs lift their awful head,
We. deathless stand where all is
dead,
And Behring's flood between US flows.
Thine arms are also reaching forth to me,
As mine to thee, and all alike in vain;
Between us rolls the unfathomable sea-
There is no sympathy, but only pain.
Above the separating wave
Our wild and half-despairing cries
Ascend and penetrate the skies,
And ask this only boon-a grave!
The Two Merchants.
When trade grew slack and notes