An alusion to Dedalus and Icarus. Sonnet 52 (Sonnet 52)

MY heart imprisoned in a hopelesse Ile,
Peopled with Armies of pale jealous eyes,
The shores beset with thousand secret spies,
Must passe by ayre, or else die in exile;
He framde him wings with feathers of his thought,
Which by their nature learnd to mount the skie,
And with the same he practised to flie,
Till he himselfe this Eagles Art had taught:
Thus soaring still, not looking once below,
So neere thine eyes celestiall sunne aspired,
That with the raies his wafting pineons fired:
Thus was the wanton cause of his owne woe,
Downe fell he in thy beauties Ocean drenched,
Yet there he burnes in fire that's neuer quenched.