Hangs in the middle Region of the aire,
So hovers he, and plains above his faire:
Blest Icarus first melted at those beames,
That he might after fall into those streames,
And there allaying his delicious flame,
In that sweet Ocean propogate his name.
Unable longer to delay, he calls
To be let down, and in short measure falls
Toward his Mistresse, that without her smock
Lies naked as Andromeda at the Rock,