In Saragossa, Ibn-Gebirol composed a work on moral philosophy (1045), which, without possessing the depth of his later philosophical works, is remarkable for the peculiar spirit which pervades it, and for the intimate acquaintance with the masters of philosophy evinced by this young man. By the side of the sayings of Holy Writ and ethical sentences from the Talmud, Ibn-Gebirol put the favorite sayings of the "divine Socrates," of his disciple Plato, of Aristotle, of Arabic philosophers, and more especially those of a Jewish philosopher, Alkuti (perhaps Chepez Alkuti). It is surprising how so young a writer could have had so deep an insight into the condition of the human soul and into worldly affairs. Ibn-Gebirol's writings contained scornful criticism of various personages in the community of Saragossa, whom he no doubt desired to offend. They must have felt his castigation the more keenly, as he said, "I need not mention names, for they are sufficiently well known." He describes the haughty, who look down upon their fellow-citizens, and always consider their own counsel the best, and those who, filled with hate, bear words of love on their lips. The pamphlet seems, in fact, to have been a challenge to his opponents in Saragossa. Ibn-Gebirol, in consequence of its publication, was turned out of Saragossa (in 1045) by the influential men whom he had embittered. In return, he describes the town as a second Gomorrha in a mournful, heart-rending lamentation, the beautifully rhythmical cry of distress uttered by despair. Whither he next went is not known. The unfortunate young poet was so inconsolable that he determined, in his indignation, to leave Spain altogether, and to go to Egypt, Palestine and Babylonia. In a poem he encourages his soul in the resolve to shake off the dust of Spain. He calls to memory the example of the patriarchs and of the greatest prophet, who left their native lands and went to foreign climes. He thus apostrophizes Spain: "Woe to thee, land of my foes, In thee I have no portion, Whether joy or sorrow be thy lot." He did not, however, carry out his determination to emigrate, but wandered about in Spain, meeting with real or imaginary misfortunes. He complained of the inconstancy of the times and of his friends, and poured forth his plaints in beautiful verses: "Blame me not for my heavy-flowing tears, But for them were my heart consumed, My wanderings have bereft me of all strength, A fly could now with ease bear me up." The tutelary genius of the Spanish Jews, Samuel Ibn-Nagrela, appears to have taken an interest in Ibn-Gebirol, and to have found a refuge for him. For this kindness Ibn-Gebirol extolled Nagrela in melodious lines. Under the powerful protection of the Jewish minister he occupied himself with philosophical studies, which held the place next to poetry in his heart. If poetry was his beloved, philosophy was a mother to him. He thus sings: