He then embraced his son and kissed him for the last time. The two rose in air. The father led the way, flying as natural as a bird. He moved his wings easily and skilfully and from time to time looked back to see how his son was succeeding. They soon passed the island of Samos at the left and flew by the islands of Delos and Paros. Several other localities were left behind them when suddenly Icarus, who had grown over-confident, forsook his paternal guide to reach a higher altitude. He soon encountered the danger his father predicted. The proximity of the sun weakened the wax which held his wings together and they became detached from his shoulders. The unfortunate youth tried to keep in air with his bare arms, but it was in vain and he suddenly plunged downwards with the name of his father on his lips; but before he could call for help he sank in the sea’s blue depths. It all happened so quickly that Dædalus, when he looked back for his son, could see nothing of him. “Icarus, Icarus,” he shouted in the vacant sky, “where and in what region of air shall I seek thee?” At last he cast an anxious glance downward and saw the feathers floating on the water. He descended and wandered from shore to shore seeking the body of his unfortunate child, and at last found it. The murder of Talos was avenged. The despairing father attended to the burial of his son, upon an island which in lasting memory of the tragic event is called Icaria. After Dædalus had buried his son he went to the large island of Sicily, where King Cocalus ruled. He met with the same hospitable reception which Minos once extended to him, and his skill created universal astonishment. He constructed an artificial lake from which issued a broad river emptying into the neighboring sea. Upon a barren and almost insurmountable cliff, which had hardly room for a couple of trees, he built a strong fortress approached by a winding way which could be defended by three or four men. King Cocalus used this impregnable castle as a storehouse for his treasures. The third work of Dædalus was a deep cavern on the island of Sicily. Here he overcame the reek of internal fires so skilfully that a visit to the cavern, which was usually so damp, became as agreeable as if it were a mildly warmed room and the body experienced a gentle perspiration without being overheated. He also enlarged the temple of Aphrodite (Venus) upon Mount Eryx[21] and dedicated to the goddess a golden honeycomb so skilfully made that it was difficult to tell it from a real one.