Vesta ’s not displeas’d if her chaste Urn
Doe with repaired fuell ever burn;
But my Saint frowns, though to her honoured 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 dayly worship her,
Yet she consumes her own Idolater.
Of such a Goddesse no times leave record,
That burnt the Temple where she was ador’d.