Would, ere she ventures, ponder on the way,
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Lest dangers yet unthought-of flight betray;
Lest her Icarian wing, by wits unplumed,
Be robb'd of all the honours she assumed,
And Dulness swell—a black and dismal sea,
Gaping her grave, while censures madden me.
Such was his fate, who flew too near the sun,
Shot far beyond his strength, and was undone;
Such is his fate, who creeping at the shore