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 seiz’d his hair

He led him by his little coat,

And all admir’d the Priestly care.



And standing on the alter 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 strip’d him to his little shirt,

And bound him in an iron chain;



And burn’d him in a holy place,

Where many had been burn’d before:

The weeping parents wept in vain.

Are such things done on Albion’s shore?