No: Phaeton, base son to Day's bright blaze,
Daring his chariot, felt Jove's thunder fire.
Astronomers, whilst on the stars they gaze,
Oft-times do sink into the dirty mire.
Only the eagle, without purblind damps,
Can fix his eyes upon the prince of lamps.
The son of Daedalus soared up so high,
That Phoebus plucked his waxen jointed wings,
1810It was her pride checked my ambitious eye.
True love, to hatred changed by slights, has stings.