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I need a 2 full body paragraph and a introduction and conclusion From Metamorphoses, Book VIII:
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Meanwhile Daedalus, hating Crete, and his long exile, and filled with a desire to stand on his native soil, was imprisoned by the waves. "He may thwart our escape by land or sea," he said, "but the sky is surely open to us: we will go that way: Minos rules everything but he does not rule the heavens." So saying he applied his thought to new invention and altered the natural order of things. He laid down lines of feathers, beginning with the smallest, following the shorter with longer ones, so that you might think they had grown like that, on a slant. In that way, long ago, the rustic pan-pipes were graduated, with lengthening reeds. Then he fastened them together with thread at the middle, and beeswax at the base, and, when he had arranged them, he flexed each one into a gentle curve, so that they imitated real bird’s wings. His son, Icarus, stood next to him, and, not realizing that he was handling things that would endanger him, caught laughingly at the down that blew in the passing breeze, and softened the yellow beeswax with his thumb, and, in his play, hindered his father’s marvelous work.

​When he had put the last touches to what he had begun, the artificer balanced his own body between the two wings and hovered in the moving air. He instructed the boy as well, saying "Let me warn you, Icarus, to take the middle way, in case the moisture weighs down your wings, if you fly too low, or if you go too high, the sun scorches them. Travel between the extremes. And I order you not to aim towards Bootes, the Herdsman, or Helice, the Great Bear, or towards the drawn sword of Orion: take the course I show you!" At the same time as he laid down the rules of flight, he fitted the newly created wings on the boy’s shoulders. While he worked and issued his warnings the ageing man’s cheeks were wet with tears: the father’s hands trembled.
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He gave a never to be repeated kiss to his son, and lifting upwards on his wings, flew ahead, anxious for his companion, like a bird, leading her fledglings out of a nest above, into the empty air. He urged the boy to follow, and showed him the dangerous art of flying, moving his own wings, and then looking back at his son. Some angler catching fish with a quivering rod, or a shepherd leaning on his crook, or a ploughman resting on the handles of his plough, saw them, perhaps, and stood there amazed, believing them to be gods able to travel the sky.

​And now Samos, sacred to Juno, lay ahead to the left (Delos and Paros were behind them), Lebinthos, and Calymne, rich in honey, to the right, when the boy began to delight in his daring flight, and abandoning his guide, drawn by desire for the heavens, soared higher. His nearness to the devouring sun softened the fragrant wax that held the wings: and the wax melted: he flailed with bare arms, but losing his oar-like wings, could not ride the air. Even as his mouth was crying his father’s name, it vanished into the dark blue sea, the Icarian Sea, called after him. The unhappy father, now no longer a father, shouted ‘Icarus, Icarus where are you? Which way should I be looking, to see you?’ ‘Icarus’ he called again. Then he caught sight of the feathers on the waves, and cursed his inventions. He laid the body to rest, in a tomb, and the island was named Icaria after his buried child.

there is the story by Ovid

Among all those mortals who grew so wise that they learned the secrets of the gods, none was more cunning than Daedalus.
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​He once built, for King Minos of Crete, a wonderful Labyrinth of winding ways so cunningly tangled up and twisted around that, once inside, you could never find your way out again without a magic clue. But the king's favor veered with the wind, and one day he had his master architect imprisoned in a tower. Daedalus managed to escape from his cell; but it seemed impossible to leave the island, since every ship that came or went was well guarded by order of the king.
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​At length, watching the sea-gulls in the air,--the only creatures that were sure of liberty,--he thought of a plan for himself and his young son Icarus, who was captive with him.
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​Little by little, he gathered a store of feathers great and small. He fastened these together with thread, molded them in with wax, and so fashioned two great wings like those of a bird. When they were done, Daedalus fitted them to his own shoulders, and after one or two efforts, he found that by waving his arms he could winnow the air and cleave it, as a swimmer does the sea. He held himself aloft, wavered this way and that with the wind, and at last, like a great fledgling, he learned fly.
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Without delay, he fell to work on a pair of wings for the boy Icarus, and taught him carefully how to use
them, bidding him beware of rash adventures among the stars. “Remember,” said the father, “never to
fly very low or very high, for the fogs about the earth would weigh you down, but the blaze of the sun
will surely melt your feathers apart if you go too near.” 
For Icarus, these cautions went in at one ear and out by the other. Who could remember to be careful
when he was to fly for the first time? Are birds careful? Not they! And not an idea remained in the boy’s
head but the one joy of escape. 
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The day came, and the fair wind that was to set them free. The father bird put on his wings, and, while
the light urged them to be gone, he waited to see that all was well with Icarus, for the two could not fly
hand in hand. Up they rose, the boy after his father. The hateful ground of Crete sank beneath them;
and the country folk, who caught a glimpse of them when they were high above the tree-tops, took it
for a vision of the gods—Apollo, perhaps—with Cupid after him. 

​At first there was a terror in the joy. The wide vacancy of the air dazed them—a glance downward
made their brains reel. But when a great wind filled their wings, and Icarus felt himself sustained,
like a halcyon-bird in the hollow of a wave, like a child uplifted by his mother, he forgot everything in
the world but joy. He forgot Crete and the other islands that he had passed over: he saw but vaguely
that winged thing in the distance before him that was his father Daedalus. He longed for one draught
of flight to quench the thirst of his captivity: he stretched out his arms to the sky and made towards the
highest heavens. 
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Alas for him! Warmer and warmer grew the air. Those arms, that had seemed to uphold him, relaxed.
His wings wavered, drooped. He fluttered his young hands vainly—he was falling—and in that terror
he remembered. The heat of the sun had melted the wax from his wings; the feathers were falling, one
by one, like snowflakes; and there was none to help. 
He fell like a leaf tossed down the wind, down, down, with one cry that overtook Daedalus far away.
When he returned, and sought high and low for the poor boy, he saw nothing but the bird-like feathers
afloat on the water, and he knew that Icarus was drowned. 
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The nearest island he named Icaria, in memory of the child; but he, in heavy grief, went to the temple
of Apollo in Sicily, and there hung up his wings as an offering. Never again did he attempt to fly.

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​And the story by Peabody