Ne his child, nyce Icarus,

That fleigh so highe that the hete

His winges [malt], and he fel wete

In-mid the see, and ther he dreynte,

For whom was maked moch compleynte.

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['Now turn upward,' quod he, 'thy face,]

And behold this large place,

This air; but loke thou ne be

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