No marvel he forgets his sire; it isn't very odd

    That one so far above the earth should think himself a god!

    Already, in his silly pride, he's gone too far aloft;

    The heat begins to scorch his wings; the wax is waxing soft;

    Down—down he goes!—Alas!—next day poor Icarus was found

    Afloat upon the Ægean Sea, extremely damp and drowned!

    The moral of this mournful tale is plain enough to all:—

    Don't get above your proper sphere, or you may chance to fall;

    Remember, too, that borrowed plumes are most uncertain things;

    And never try to scale the sky with other people's wings!

    A bumper to the jolly Dean

    Who, in "Augustan" times,

    Made merriment for fat and lean

    In jocund prose and rhymes!

    Ah, but he drove a pranksome quill!

    With quips he wove a spell;

    His creed—he cried it with a will—

    Was "

     Vive la bagatelle!

    "

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