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?