Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Laura—Part IIIXXXIII. As sacrifice unto a goddess bright
Robert Tofte (1561–1620)A
My heart I offered with devotion great:
Thinking that She, Love’s Temple had been right.
But what, un’wares, I spied not then, in heat,
I, wary, now discern her for to be:
Of hell below, the rightest cruelty.
I was deceived, I do confess. That smile,
That wanton smile, that bred in me delight,
Hid in those lips so fair, did me beguile.
O beauty false! O cruelty most right!
Flee, flee my heart! flee then, if thou be wise,
Thy hurt! my burning heat, her treacheries!