. Suffer me to bring hope to those from whom hope has
fled, to give courage to those who are weak, to uphold those whom evil
threatens, and to sustain those who would persevere in well-doing. And
then, perhaps, their struggles, their devotedness, their virtues, this
miseries might expiate my sin. Yes, mine--misfortune, misfortune alone,
made me unjust and wicked. O Lord! since Thine almighty hand hath
brought me hither, for some end unknown to me, disarm Thyself, I implore
Thee, of Thine anger, and let not me be the instrument of Thy vengeance!
There is enough of mourning in the earth these two years past--Thy
creatures have fallen by millions in my footsteps. The world is
decimated. A veil of mourning extends from one end of the globe to the
other. I have traveled from Asia even to the Frozen Pole, and death has
followed in my wake. Dost Thou not hear, O Lord! the universal wailings
that mount up to Thee? Have mercy upon all, and upon me. One day, grant
me but a single day, that I may collect the descendants of my sister
together, and save them!" And uttering these words, the wanderer fell
upon his knees, and raised his hands to heaven in a suppliant attitude.

Suddenly, the wind howled with redoubled violence; its sharp whistlings
changed to a tempest. The Wanderer trembled, and exclaimed in a voice of
terror, "O Lord! the blast of death is howling in its rage. It appears
as though a whirlwind were lifting me up. Lord, wilt Thou not, then,
hear my prayer? The spectre! O! do I behold the spectre? Yes, there it
is; its cadaverous countenance is agitated by convulsive throes, its red
eyes are rolling in their orbits. Begone! begone! Oh! its hand--its icy
hand has seized on mine! Mercy, Lord, have mercy! 'Onward!' Oh, Lord!
this scourge, this terrible avenging scourge! Must I, then, again carry
it into this city, must my poor wretched brethren be the first to fall
under it--though already so miserable? Mercy, mercy! 'Onward!' And the
descendants of my sister--oh, pray, have mercy, mercy! 'Onward!' O Lord,
have pity on me! I can no longer keep my footing on the ground, the
spectre is dragging me over the brow of the hill; my course is as rapid
as the death-bearing wind that whistles in my track; I already approach
the walls of the city. Oh, mercy, Lord, mercy on the descendants of my
sister--spare them! do not compel me to be their executioner, and let
them triumph over their enemies. Onward, onward! The ground is fleeing
f