Ars Amatoria; or, The Art Of Love. Ovid

"Most just Minos, let there be a termination of my exile; and let my paternal land receive my ashes. And since, harassed by the cruel Destinies, I cannot live in my country, let me be enabled to die. If the merits of an old man are but small, grant a return to this boy; if thou art unwilling to favour the boy, then favour the old man." This he said: but both this and many more things he might have said; the other did not permit a return to the hero. Soon as he saw this, he said, "Now, O now, Dædalus, thou hast a subject, upon which thou mayst prove ingenious. Lo! Minos possesses the land, and he possesses the ocean; neither earth nor water is open for our escape; there remains a path through the heavens; through the heavens will we attempt to go. Jupiter on high, grant pardon to my design. I do not aim to reach the starry abodes; there is no way but this one, by which I may escape the tyrant. Should a road through Styx be granted; then we will swim through the Stygian waves; let the laws of nature be changed by me." Misfortunes often sharpen the genius; who could have ever believed, that a mortal could attempt the paths of the air?

      He arranges swift feathers in order, like oars, 905 and connects the light work with fastenings of thread; the lower part, too, is bound together with wax, melted by the fire; and now the work of the new contrivance is finished. The smiling boy handles both the wax and the feathers, not knowing that these instruments are prepared for his own shoulders. To him his father says: "With these ships must we reach our native land; by these means must we escape from Minos. The air Minos could not, all else he has, shut against us. Cleave the air, which still thou mayst, with these my inventions. But neither the virgin of Tegeæa, nor the sword-bearing Orion, 906 the companion of Bootes, will have to be beheld by thee. Follow me with the wings given to thee: I will go before on the way. Be it thy care to follow; me thy leader, thou wilt he safe. But if we shall go through the air of the heavens, the sun close to us, the wax will not be able to endure the heat. If we shall wave our wings below, the sea near to us, the fluttering feathers will be wet with the ocean spray. Fly between them both; dread, too, the winds, my son; and whichever way the breezes shall blow, set thy prospering sails."