“The soft’ning wax, that felt a nearer sun,

Dissolv’d apace, and soon began to run.

The youth in vain his melting pinions shakes,

His feathers gone, no longer air he takes.

O father, father, as he strove to cry,

Down to the sea he tumbled from on high.

And found his fate; yet still subsists by fame,

Among those waters that retain his name.