Gay tints his gilded wings imbuing,
You mount; and ah! too far pursuing
At fancy’s call,
Heedless you strike the sails, where ruin
Awaits your fall.
Your fins, too dry, no longer play you,
And soon those fins no more upstay you;
You drop; and now on deck survey you
Jack, Tom, and Bill,
Who up may take, and down may lay you,