The Wandering Jew's Soliloquy

Is it the Eternal Triune, is it He

Who dares arrest the wheels of destiny

And plunge me in the lowest Hell of Hells?

Will not the lightning's blast destroy my frame?

Will not steel drink the blood-life where it swells?

No — let me hie where dark Destruction dwells,

To rouse her from her deeply caverned lair,

And, taunting her cursed sluggishness to ire,

Light long Oblivion's death-torch at its flame

And calmly mount Annihilation's pyre.

Tyrant of Earth! pale Misery's jackal Thou!

Are there no stores of vengeful violent fate

Within the magazines of Thy fierce hate?

No poison in the clouds to bathe a brow

That lowers on Thee with desperate contempt?

Where is the noonday Pestilence that slew

The myriad sons of Israel's favoured nation?

Where the destroying Minister that flew

Pouring the fiery tide of desolation

Upon the leagued Assyrian's attempt?

Where the dark Earthquake-daemon who engorged

At the dread word Korah's unconscious crew?

Or the Angel's two-edged sword of fire that urged

Our primal parents from their bower of bliss

(Reared by Thine hand) for errors not their own

By Thine omniscient mind foredoomed, foreknown?

Yes! I would court a ruin such as this,

Almighty Tyrant! and give thanks to Thee —

Drink deeply — drain the cup of hate; remit this — I may die.