Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
Cupid all arm'd; a certain aim he took
At a fair vestal throned by the West,
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow.
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon,
And the imperial votaress passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy free.
Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell;