Of some rich rabbi there;
Seeing the sick, blind, halt, my blood had curdled
At the sight of such despair.
“And I had wrenched the sapphires from my fillet,
Nor let one spark remain;
Snatched up my gold, amid the crowd to spill it,
For pity of their pain.
“I would have let the palsied fingers hold me;
I would have walked between
The Marys and Salome, while they told me