Читать книгу The Complete Illuminated Books of William Blake (Unabridged - With All The Original Illustrations) - William Blake - Страница 85

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 siez’d his hair:

He led him by his little coat:

And all admir’d 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 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 Albions shore.