The Borough

by George Crabbe

But sad the darkness till those times appear;

Contests for truth, as wars for freedom, yield

Glory and joy to those who gain the field:

But still the Christian must in pity sigh

For all who suffer, and uncertain die.

Here are, who all the Church maintains approve,

But yet the Church herself they will not love;

In angry speech, they blame the carnal tie

Which pure Religion lost her spirit by;

What time from prisons, flames, and tortures led,