That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid’s music.
Puck.
I remember.
[155] Obe. That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
[157] Cupid all arm’d: a certain aim he took
[158] At a fair vestal throned by the west,
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,