Here fell young Icarus. To heaven's high gate
Fearless, he leapt against the flaming sky,
Only to fall with blasted wings, and die,
Leaving all heroes envious of his fate:
O sacred travail of a soul elate,
Defeat—more glorious than victory!
O sacred suffering thrilled with ecstasy,
All time shall hold his fame inviolate:

Dauntless, the boy pursued his perilous goal,
The effort failed, but not the steadfast soul,
Among the blazing stars he found his doom:
Death could not turn him from his high emprise:
His aim was heaven—deep in the sea he lies:
Was ever nobler dream, or richer tomb?