And blessed with beauty ripe and rare.
Alas! it is of no avail
My hapless fortune to bewail;
Heaven has willed that I, a man,
Must even end as I began,
Until grim death, a timely friend,
Brings to my woes the wished-for end.
Thus will I bear with patient grace
What still befalls the Jewish race,
And not forget those wondrous pages,