Classic Poem

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 Idolatrie;

Since thou (loves 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 cruell 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.