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