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Rained Luna’s radiance shedding rutilant showers o’er Neptune’s wavelets tipt with silver sheen:
And like the May-mead fleckt with daisy flowers sprent with its sparkling stars the sky was seen:
The blust’ring storm-winds slept in distant bowers, Antres obscure in regions peregrine; yet on th’ Armada’s decks a weapon’d guard kept, as so long they wont, good watch and ward.