Songs of Experience: A Little Boy Lost

 'Nought loves another as itself,
   Nor venerates another so,
 Nor is it possible to thought
   A greater than itself to know.
 
 'And, father, how can I love you
   Or any of my brothers more?
 I love you like the little bird
   That picks up crumbs around the door.'
 
 The Priest sat by and heard the child;
   In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
 He led him by his little coat,
   And all admired the priestly care.
 
 And standing on the altar high,
   'Lo, what a fiend is here! said he:
 'One who sets reason up for judge
   Of our most holy mystery.'
 
 The weeping child could not be heard,
   The weeping parents wept in vain:
 They stripped him to his little shirt,
   And bound him in an iron chain,
 
 And burned him in a holy place
   Where many had been burned before;
 The weeping parents wept in vain.
   Are such thing done on Albion's shore?

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