A Cruel Mistress.

The poem

We read of kings and gods that kindly took A pitcher fill'd with water from the brook ; But I have daily tender'd without thanks Rivers of tears that overflow their banks. A slaughter'd bull will appease angry Jove, A horse the Sun, a lamb the god of love, But she disdains the spotless sacrifice Of a pure heart, that at her altar lies. Vesta is not displeased, if her chaste urn Do with repaired fuel ever burn ; But my saint frowns, though to her honour'd name I consecrate a never-dying flame. Th' Assyrian king did none i' th' furnace throw But those that to his image did not bow ; With bended knees I daily worship her, Yet she consumes her own idolater. Of such a goddess no times leave record, That burnt the temple where she was adored.