What things men fear they do not dare to say
Lest, thus provoked, Fate should no more delay
But run on them and wreak those ills they dread:
To Death we kneel, to God we bow the head;
Yet of our fears we have the most dismay.
We fear our fears, but thee, Oh Fear, we hate,
For thou with all our sins art intimate
As He who made us; crimes wrought long ago,
Follies and half-faults, each one thou dost know
And dost avenge with rods deliberate.