If high, the sun the melting wax consumes.
Steer between both: nor to the northern skies,
Nor South Orion, turn your giddy eyes,
But follow me; let me before you lay
Rules for the flight, and mark the pathless way.”
Thus teaching, with a fond concern, his son,
He took the untried wings, and fix’d them on:
But fix’d with trembling hands; and, as he speaks,
The tears roll gently down his aged cheeks;
Then kiss’d, and in his arms embraced him fast,