OVID'S METAMORPHOSE S.

BO O K II.

THE STORY OF PHAETON.

HE fun's bright palace, on high columns rais'd,

and flaming jewels blaz'd;

The folding gates diffus'd a silver light,

And with a milder gleam refresh'd the sight;
Of polish'd ivory was the covering wrought:
The matter vied not with the fculptor's thought,
For in the portal was display'd on high
(The work of Vulcan) a fictitious sky;
A waving fea th' inferior earth embrac'd,
And Gods and Goddeffes the waters grac'd.
geon here a mighty whale beftrode ;
Triton, and Proteus (the deceiving God),
With Doris here were carv'd, and all her train,
Some loosely fwimming in the figur'd main,
While fome on rocks their drooping hair divide,
And fome on fishes through the waters glide:
Though various features did the fisters grace,
A fifter's likeness was in every face.

On earth a different landskip courts the eyes,
Men, towns, and beasts, in distant prospects rife,
And nymphs, and streams, and woods, and rural deities.
O'er all, the heaven's refulgent image shines ;
On either gate were fix engraven figns.

Here

Here Phaeton, ftill gaining on th' afcent, To his fufpected father's palace went, Till preffing forward through the bright abode, He faw at diftance the illuftrious God: He saw at diftance, or the dazzling light Had flash'd too strongly on his aking fight. The God fits high, exalted on a throne Of blazing gems, with purple garments on; The hours in order rang'd on either hand, And days, and months, and years, and ages, stand. Here spring appears with flowery chaplets bound; Here fummer in her wheaten garland crown'd; Here autumn the rich troden grapes befinear; And hoary winter fhivers in the rear.

Phoebus beheld the youth from off his throne; That eye, which looks on all, was fix'd on one. He saw the boy's confufion in his face,

Surpriz'd at all the wonders of the place;

And cries aloud, "What wants my fon? For know My fon thou art, and I must call thee fo."

"Light of the world," the trembling youth replies, "Illuftrious parent! fince you don't despise "The parent's name, fome certain token give, "That I may Clymenè's proud boast believe, "Nor longer under falfe reproaches grieve."

The tender Sire was touch'd with what he said, And flung the blaze of glories from his head, And bid the youth advance: "My fon (faid he) "Come to thy father's arms! for Clymenè "Has told thee true; a parent's name I own, “And deem thee worthy to be call'd my fon.

"As

"As a fure proof, make fome request, and I,
"Whate'er it be, with that request comply;
"By Styx I swear, whose waves are hid in night,
"And roll impervious to my piercing fight."

The youth, tranfported, afks without delay,
To guide the Sun's bright chariot for a day.
The God repented of the oath he took,
For anguish thrice his radiant head he shook:

My fon (fays he) fome other proof require ;
"Rafh was my promise, rafh is thy defire.
"I'd fain deny this with which thou hast made,
"Or, what I can't deny, would fain dissuade.
"Too vaft and hazardous the task appears,
"Nor fuited to thy ftrength, nor to thy years.
"Thy lot is mortal, but thy wishes fly
"Beyond the province of mortality :

"There is not one of all the Gods that dares "(However skill'd in other great affairs) "To mount the burning axle-tree, but I; "Not Jove himself, the ruler of the sky, "That hurls the three-fork'd thunder from above, Dares try his ftrength; yet who fo ftrong as Jove? "The fteeds climb up the firft afcent with pain; "And when the middle firmament they gain, "If downwards from the heavens my head I bow, "And fee the earth and ocean hang below, "Ev'n I am feiz'd with horror and affright, "And my own heart mifgives me at the fight. "A mighty downfall fteeps the evening ftage, "And teddy reins must curb the horses' rage.

"Tethys

"Tethys herself has fear'd to fee me driven "Down headlong from the precipice of heaven. "Befides, confider what impetuous force "Turns ftars and planets in a different course : "I fteer against their motions; nor am I "Borne back by all the current of the sky. "But how could you refift the orbs that roll "In adverfe whirls, and stem the rapid pole? "But you perhaps may hope for pleafing woods, "And stately domes, and cities fill'd with Gods; "While through a thousand fnares your progrefs lies, "Where forms of starry monsters stock the skies: "For, fhould you hit the doubtful way aright, "The Bull with stooping horns ftands oppofite; "Next him the bright Hæmonian Bow is ftrung; "And next, the Lion's grinning visage hung: "The Scorpion's claws here clasp a wide extent, "And here the Crab's in leffer clafps are bent. "Nor would you find it easy to compose "The mettled fteeds, when from their noftrils flows "The fcorching fire, that in their entrails glows. "Ev'n I their head-ftrong fury scarce restrain, "When they grow warm and reftiff to the rein. "Let not my fon a fatal gift require, "But, O! in time, recal your rafh defire; "You ask a gift that may your parent tell, "Let these my fears your parentage reveal ; "And learn a father from a father's care; "Look on my face; or, if my heart lay bare, "Could you but look, you'd read the father there.

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"Choofe

"Choose out a gift from feas, or earth, or skies,}

"For open to your wifh all nature lies,
"Only decline this one unequal task,
"For 'tis a mischief, not a gift, you ask;

"You ask a real mischief, Phaeton:

"Nay hang not thus about my neck, my son : "I grant your wish, and Styx has heard my voice, "Choose what you will, but make a wifer choice." Thus did the God th' unwary youth advise; But he still longs to travel through the skies. When the fond father (for in vain he pleads) At length to the Vulcanian chariot leads.

A golden axle did the work uphold,

Gold was the beam, the wheels were orb'd with gold.
The spokes in rows of filver pleas'd the fight,
The feat with party-colour'd gems was bright;
Apollo fhin'd amid the glare of light.

The youth with fecret joy the work furveys;
When now the morn difclos'd her purple rays;
The ftars were fled; for Lucifer had chac'd

The ftars away, and fled himself at last.
Soon as the father faw the rofy morn,

And the moon fhining with a blunter horn,
He bid the nimble hours without delay
Bring forth the steeds; the nimble hours obey:
From their full racks the generous steeds retire,
Dropping ambrofial foams, and fnorting fire.
Still anxious for his fon, the God of day,
To make him proof against the burning ray,
His temples with celeftial ointment wet,
Of sovereign virtue to repel the heat;

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Then