George Crabbe (1754–1832)

WE’VE trod the maze of error round,

Long wandering in the winding glade;

And now the torch of truth is found,

It only shows us where we strayed:

By long experience taught, we know—

Can rightly judge of friends and foes;

Can all the worth of these allow,

And all the faults discern in those.

Now, ’tis our boast that we can quell

The wildest passions in their rage,

Can their destructive force repel,

And their impetuous wrath assuage.—

Ah, Virtue! dost thou arm when now

This bold rebellious race are fled?

When all these tyrants rest, and thou

Art warring with the mighty dead?