The Idolater

Think not, pale lover, he who dies,
Burnt in the flames of Celia's eyes,
Is unto Love a sacrifice;

Or, by the merit of this pain,
Thou shalt the crown of martyrs gain!
Those hopes are, as thy passion, vain.

For when, by death, from these flames free,
To greater thou condemn'd shalt be,
And punish'd for idolatry,

Since thou (Love's votary before
Whilst He was kind) dost him no more,
But, in his shrine, Disdain adore.

Nor will this fire (the gods prepare
To punish scorn) that cruel Fair,
(Though now from flames exempted) spare;

But as together both shall die,
Both burnt alike in flames shall lie,
She in thy breast, thou in her eye.