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We see spiders, flies or ants entombed and preserved forever in amber, a more than royal tomb.

It was prettily devised of Aesop: The fly sat upon the axle-tree of the chariot-wheel, and said, What a dust do I raise!

We see how flies, and spiders, and the like, get a sepulchre in amber, more durable than the monument and embalming of the body of any king.

And it shall come to pass in that day, that the Lord shall hiss for the fly that is in the uttermost part of the rivers of Egypt, and for the bee that is in the land of Assyria.

Make yourself honey and the flies will devour you.

The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.

To a boyling pot flies comes not.

I saw a flie within a beade Of amber cleanly buried.

A fly sat on the chariot wheel And said "what a dust I raise."

Busy, curious, thirsty fly, Drink with me and drink as I! Freely welcome to my cup, Could'st thou sip and sip it up; Make the most of life you may; Life is short and wears away.

Baby bye Here's a fly, Let us watch him, you and I, How he crawls Up the walls Yet he never falls.

Oh! that the memories which survive us here Were half so lovely as these wings of thine! Pure relics of a blameless life, that shine Now thou art gone.