And now his thunder boltswould Jove wide scatter, but he feared the flames,unnumbered, sacred ether might igniteand burn the axle of the universe:and he remembered in the scroll of fate,there is a time appointed when the seaand earth and Heavens shall melt, and fire destroythe universe of mighty labour wrought.Such weapons by the skill of Cyclops forged,for different punishment he laid aside—for straightway he preferred to overwhelmthe mortal race beneath deep waves and stormsfrom every raining sky. And instantlyhe shut the Northwind in Aeolian caves,and every other wind that might dispelthe gathering clouds. He bade the Southwind blow:—the Southwind flies abroad with dripping wings,concealing in the gloom his awful face:the drenching rain descends from his wet beardand hoary locks; dark clouds are on his browsand from his wings and garments drip the dews:his great hands press the overhanging clouds;loudly the thunders roll; the torrents pour;Iris, the messenger of Juno, cladin many coloured raiment, upward drawsthe steaming moisture to renew the clouds.The standing grain is beaten to the ground,the rustic's crops are scattered in the mire,and he bewails the long year's fruitless toil.The wrath of Jove was not content with powersthat emanate from Heaven; he brought to aidhis azure brother, lord of flowing waves,who called upon the Rivers and the Streams:and when they entered his impearled abode,Neptune, their ancient ruler, thus began;“A long appeal is needless; pour ye forthin rage of power; open up your fountains;rush over obstacles; let every streampour forth in boundless floods.” Thus he commands,and none dissenting all the River Godsreturn, and opening up their fountains rolltumultuous to the deep unfruitful sea.And Neptune with his trident smote the Earth,which trembling with unwonted throes heaved upthe sources of her waters bare; and throughher open plains the rapid rivers rushedresistless, onward bearing the waving grain,the budding groves, the houses, sheep and men,—and holy temples, and their sacred urns.The mansions that remained, resisting vastand total ruin, deepening waves concealedand whelmed their tottering turrets in the floodand whirling gulf. And now one vast expanse,the land and sea were mingled in the wasteof endless waves—a sea without a shore.One desperate man seized on the nearest hill;another sitting in his curved boat,plied the long oar where he was wont to plow;another sailed above his grain, abovehis hidden dwelling; and another hookeda fish that sported in a leafy elm.Perchance an anchor dropped in verdant fields,or curving keels were pushed through tangled vines;and where the gracile goat enjoyed the green,unsightly seals reposed. Beneath the waveswere wondering Nereids, viewing cities, grovesand houses. Dolphins darting mid the trees,meshed in the twisted branches, beat againstthe shaken oak trees. There the sheep, affrayed,swim with the frightened wolf, the surging wavesfloat tigers and lions: availeth naughthis lightning shock the wild boar, nor availsthe stag's fleet footed speed. The wandering bird,seeking umbrageous groves and hidden vales,with wearied pinion droops into the sea.The waves increasing surge above the hills,and rising waters dash on mountain tops.Myriads by the waves are swept away,and those the waters spare, for lack of food,starvation slowly overcomes at last.A fruitful land and fair but now submergedbeneath a wilderness of rising waves,'Twixt Oeta and Aonia, Phocis lies,where through the clouds Parnassus' summits twainpoint upward to the stars, unmeasured height,save which the rolling billows covered all:there in a small and fragile boat, arrived,Deucalion and the consort of his couch,prepared to worship the Corycian Nymphs,the mountain deities, and Themis kind,who in that age revealed in oraclesthe voice of fate. As he no other livedso good and just, as she no other fearedthe Gods.When Jupiter beheld the globein ruin covered, swept with wasting waves,and when he saw one man of myriads left,one helpless woman left of myriads lone,both innocent and worshiping the Gods,he scattered all the clouds; he blew awaythe great storms by the cold northwind. Once morethe earth appeared to heaven and the skiesappeared to earth. The fury of the mainabated, for the Ocean ruler laidhis trident down and pacified the waves,and called on azure Triton.—Triton aroseabove the waving seas, his shoulders mailedin purple shells.—He bade the Triton blow,blow in his sounding shell, the wandering streamsand rivers to recall with signal known:a hollow wreathed trumpet, tapering wideand slender stemmed, the Triton took amainand wound the pearly shell at midmost sea.Betwixt the rising and the setting sunsthe wildered notes resounded shore to shore,and as it touched his lips, wet with the brinebeneath his dripping beard, sounded retreat:and all the waters of the land and seaobeyed. Their fountains heard and ceased to flow;their waves subsided; hidden hills uprose;emerged the shores of ocean; channels filledwith flowing streams; the soil appeared; the landincreased its surface as the waves decreased:and after length of days the trees put forth,with ooze on bending boughs, their naked tops.And all the wasted globe was now restored,but as he viewed the vast and silent worldDeucalion wept and thus to Pyrrha spoke;“O sister! wife! alone of woman left!My kindred in descent and origin!Dearest companion of my marriage bed,doubly endeared by deepening dangers borne,—of all the dawn and eve behold of earth,but you and I are left—for the deep seahas kept the rest! And what prevents the tidefrom overwhelming us? Remaining cloudsaffright us. How could you endure your fearsif you alone were rescued by this fate,and who would then console your bitter grief?Oh be assured, if you were buried in the waves,that I would follow you and be with you!Oh would that by my father's art I mightrestore the people, and inspire this clayto take the form of man. Alas, the Godsdecreed and only we are living!”, ThusDeucalion's plaint to Pyrrha;—and they wept.And after he had spoken, they resolvedto ask the aid of sacred oracles,—and so they hastened to Cephissian waveswhich rolled a turbid flood in channels known.Thence when their robes and brows were sprinkled well,they turned their footsteps to the goddess' fane:its gables were befouled with reeking mossand on its altars every fire was cold.But when the twain had reached the temple stepsthey fell upon the earth, inspired with awe,and kissed the cold stone with their trembling lips,and said; “If righteous prayers appease the Gods,and if the wrath of high celestial powersmay thus be turned, declare, O Themis! whenceand what the art may raise humanity?O gentle goddess help the dying world!”Moved by their supplications, she replied;“Depart from me and veil your brows; ungirdyour robes, and cast behind you as you go,the bones of your great mother.” Long they stoodin dumb amazement: Pyrrha, first of voice,refused the mandate and with trembling lipsimplored the goddess to forgive—she fearedto violate her mother's bones and vexher sacred spirit. Often pondered theythe words involved in such obscurity,repeating oft: and thus Deucalionto Epimetheus' daughter uttered speechof soothing import; “ Oracles are justand urge not evil deeds, or naught availsthe skill of thought. Our mother is the Earth,and I may judge the stones of earth are bonesthat we should cast behind us as we go.”And although Pyrrha by his words was movedshe hesitated to comply; and both amazeddoubted the purpose of the oracle,but deemed no harm to come of trial. They,descending from the temple, veiled their headsand loosed their robes and threw some stonesbehind them. It is much beyond belief,were not receding ages witness, hardand rigid stones assumed a softer form,enlarging as their brittle nature changedto milder substance,—till the shape of manappeared, imperfect, faintly outlined first,as marble statue chiseled in the rough.The soft moist parts were changed to softer flesh,the hard and brittle substance into bones,the veins retained their ancient name. And nowthe Gods supreme ordained that every stoneDeucalion threw should take the form of man,and those by Pyrrha cast should woman's formassume: so are we hardy to endureand prove by toil and deeds from what we sprung. And after this the Earth spontaneousproduced the world of animals, when allremaining moistures of the mirey fensfermented in the sun, and fruitful seedsin soils nutritious grew to shapes ordained.So when the seven streamed Nile from oozy fieldsreturneth duly to her ancient bed,the sun's ethereal rays impregn the slime,that haply as the peasants turn the soilthey find strange animals unknown before:some in the moment of their birth, and somedeprived of limbs, imperfect; often partalive and part of slime inanimateare fashioned in one body. Heat combinedwith moisture so conceives and life resultsfrom these two things. For though the flames may bethe foes of water, everything that livesbegins in humid vapour, and it seemsdiscordant concord is the means of life.When Earth, spread over with diluvian ooze,felt heat ethereal from the glowing sun,unnumbered species to the light she gave,and gave to being many an ancient form,or monster new created. Unwilling shecreated thus enormous Python.—Thouunheard of serpent spread so far athwartthe side of a vast mountain, didst fill with fearthe race of new created man. The Godthat bears the bow (a weapon used till thenonly to hunt the deer and agile goat)destroyed the monster with a myriad darts,and almost emptied all his quiver, tillenvenomed gore oozed forth from livid wounds.Lest in a dark oblivion time should hidethe fame of this achievement, sacred sportshe instituted, from the Python called“The Pythian Games.” In these the happy youthwho proved victorious in the chariot race,running and boxing, with an honoured crownof oak leaves was enwreathed. The laurel thenwas not created, wherefore Phoebus, brightand godlike, beauteous with his flowing hair,was wont to wreathe his brows with various leaves. Daphne, the daughter of a River Godwas first beloved by Phoebus, the great Godof glorious light. 'Twas not a cause of chancebut out of Cupid's vengeful spite that shewas fated to torment the lord of light.For Phoebus, proud of Python's death, beheldthat impish god of Love upon a timewhen he was bending his diminished bow,and voicing his contempt in anger said;“What, wanton boy, are mighty arms to thee,great weapons suited to the needs of war?The bow is only for the use of thoselarge deities of heaven whose strength may dealwounds, mortal, to the savage beasts of prey;and who courageous overcome their foes.—it is a proper weapon to the useof such as slew with arrows Python, huge,whose pestilential carcase vast extentcovered. Content thee with the flames thy torchenkindles (fires too subtle for my thought)and leave to me the glory that is mine.”to him, undaunted, Venus, son replied;“O Phoebus, thou canst conquer all the worldwith thy strong bow and arrows, but with thissmall arrow I shall pierce thy vaunting breast!And by the measure that thy might exceedsthe broken powers of thy defeated foes,so is thy glory less than mine.” No morehe said, but with his wings expanded thenceflew lightly to Parnassus, lofty peak.There, from his quiver he plucked arrows twain,most curiously wrought of different art;one love exciting, one repelling love.The dart of love was glittering, gold and sharp,the other had a blunted tip of lead;and with that dull lead dart he shot the Nymph,but with the keen point of the golden darthe pierced the bone and marrow of the God.Immediately the one with love was filled,the other, scouting at the thought of love,rejoiced in the deep shadow of the woods,and as the virgin Phoebe (who deniesthe joys of love and loves the joys of chase)a maiden's fillet bound her flowing hair,—and her pure mind denied the love of man.Beloved and wooed she wandered silent paths,for never could her modesty endurethe glance of man or listen to his love.Her grieving father spoke to her, “Alas,my daughter, I have wished a son in law,and now you owe a grandchild to the joyof my old age.” But Daphne only hungher head to hide her shame. The nuptial torchseemed criminal to her. She even clung,caressing, with her arms around his neck,and pled, “My dearest father let me livea virgin always, for remember Jovedid grant it to Diana at her birth.”But though her father promised her desire,her loveliness prevailed against their will;for, Phoebus when he saw her waxed distraught,and filled with wonder his sick fancy raiseddelusive hopes, and his own oraclesdeceived him.—As the stubble in the fieldflares up, or as the stacked wheat is consumedby flames, enkindled from a spark or torchthe chance pedestrian may neglect at dawn;so was the bosom of the god consumed,and so desire flamed in his stricken heart.He saw her bright hair waving on her neck;—“How beautiful if properly arranged! ”He saw her eyes like stars of sparkling fire,her lips for kissing sweetest, and her handsand fingers and her arms; her shoulders whiteas ivory;—and whatever was not seenmore beautiful must be.Swift as the windfrom his pursuing feet the virgin fled,and neither stopped nor heeded as he called;“O Nymph! O Daphne! I entreat thee stay,it is no enemy that follows thee—why, so the lamb leaps from the raging wolf,and from the lion runs the timid faun,and from the eagle flies the trembling dove,all hasten from their natural enemybut I alone pursue for my dear love.Alas, if thou shouldst fall and mar thy face,or tear upon the bramble thy soft thighs,or should I prove unwilling cause of pain!“The wilderness is rough and dangerous,and I beseech thee be more careful—Iwill follow slowly.—Ask of whom thou wilt,and thou shalt learn that I am not a churl—I am no mountain dweller of rude caves,nor clown compelled to watch the sheep and goats;and neither canst thou know from whom thy feetfly fearful, or thou wouldst not leave me thus.“The Delphic Land, the Pataraean Realm,Claros and Tenedos revere my name,and my immortal sire is Jupiter.The present, past and future are through mein sacred oracles revealed to man,and from my harp the harmonies of soundare borrowed by their bards to praise the Gods.My bow is certain, but a flaming shaftsurpassing mine has pierced my heart—untouched before. The art of medicineis my invention, and the power of herbs;but though the world declare my useful worksthere is no herb to medicate my wound,and all the arts that save have failed their lord.,” But even as he made his plaint, the Nymphwith timid footsteps fled from his approach,and left him to his murmurs and his pain.Lovely the virgin seemed as the soft windexposed her limbs, and as the zephyrs fondfluttered amid her garments, and the breezefanned lightly in her flowing hair. She seemedmost lovely to his fancy in her flight;and mad with love he followed in her steps,and silent hastened his increasing speed.As when the greyhound sees the frightened hareflit over the plain:—With eager nose outstretched,impetuous, he rushes on his prey,and gains upon her till he treads her feet,and almost fastens in her side his fangs;but she, whilst dreading that her end is near,is suddenly delivered from her fright;so was it with the god and virgin: onewith hope pursued, the other fled in fear;and he who followed, borne on wings of love,permitted her no rest and gained on her,until his warm breath mingled in her hair.Her strength spent, pale and faint, with pleading eyesshe gazed upon her father's waves and prayed,“Help me my father, if thy flowing streamshave virtue! Cover me, O mother Earth!Destroy the beauty that has injured me,or change the body that destroys my life.”Before her prayer was ended, torpor seizedon all her body, and a thin bark closedaround her gentle bosom, and her hairbecame as moving leaves; her arms were changedto waving branches, and her active feetas clinging roots were fastened to the ground—her face was hidden with encircling leaves.—Phoebus admired and loved the graceful tree,(For still, though changed, her slender form remained)and with his right hand lingering on the trunkhe felt her bosom throbbing in the bark.He clung to trunk and branch as though to twine.His form with hers, and fondly kissed the woodthat shrank from every kiss.And thus the God;“Although thou canst not be my bride, thou shaltbe called my chosen tree, and thy green leaves,O Laurel! shall forever crown my brows,be wreathed around my quiver and my lyre;the Roman heroes shall be crowned with thee,as long processions climb the Capitoland chanting throngs proclaim their victories;and as a faithful warden thou shalt guardthe civic crown of oak leaves fixed betweenthy branches, and before Augustan gates.And as my youthful head is never shorn,so, also, shalt thou ever bear thy leavesunchanging to thy glory.,”Here the God,Phoebus Apollo, ended his lament,and unto him the Laurel bent her boughs,so lately fashioned; and it seemed to himher graceful nod gave answer to his love.
There is a grove in Thessaly, enclosedon every side with crags, precipitous,—on which a forest grows—and this is calledthe Vale of Tempe—through this valley flowsthe River Peneus, white with foaming waves,that issue from the foot of Pindus, whencewith sudden fall up gather steamy cloudsthat sprinkle mist upon the circling trees,and far away with mighty roar resound.It is the abode, the solitary home,that mighty River loves, where deep in gloomof rocky cavern, he resides and rulesthe flowing waters and the water nymphsabiding there. All rivers of that landnow hasten thither, doubtful to consoleor flatter Daphne's parent: poplar crownedSperchios, swift Enipeus and the wildAmphrysos, old Apidanus and Aeas,with all their kindred streams that wandering mazeand wearied seek the ocean. Inachusalone is absent, hidden in his caveobscure, deepening his waters with his tears—most wretchedly bewailing, for he deemshis daughter Io lost. If she may liveor roam a spirit in the nether shadeshe dares not even guess but dreadsfor Jove not long before had seen her whilereturning from her father's stream, and said;“O virgin, worthy of immortal Jove,although some happy mortal's chosen bride,—behold these shades of overhanging trees,and seek their cool recesses while the sunis glowing in the height of middle skies—”and as he spoke he pointed out the groves—“But should the dens of wild beasts frighten you,with safety you may enter the deep woods,conducted by a God—not with a Godof small repute, but in the care of himwho holds the heavenly scepter in his handand fulminates the trackless thunder bolts.—forsake me not! ” For while he spoke she fled,and swiftly left behind the pasture fieldsof Lerna, and Lyrcea's arbours, wherethe trees are planted thickly. But the Godcalled forth a heavy shadow which involvedthe wide extended earth, and stopped her flightand ravished in that cloud her chastity.Meanwhile, the goddess Juno gazing downon earth's expanse, with wonder saw the cloudsas dark as night enfold those middle fieldswhile day was bright above. She was convincedthe clouds were none composed of river mistnor raised from marshy fens. Suspicious now,from oft detected amours of her spouse,she glanced around to find her absent lord,and quite convinced that he was far from heaven,she thus exclaimed; “This cloud deceives my mind,or Jove has wronged me.” From the dome of heavenshe glided down and stood upon the earth,and bade the clouds recede. But Jove had knownthe coming of his queen. He had transformedthe lovely Io, so that she appeareda milk white heifer—formed so beautifuland fair that envious Juno gazed on her.She queried: “Whose? what herd? what pasture fields?”As if she guessed no knowledge of the truth.And Jupiter, false hearted, said the cowwas earth begotten, for he feared his queenmight make inquiry of the owner's name.Juno implored the heifer as a gift.—what then was left the Father of the Gods?'Twould be a cruel thing to sacrificehis own beloved to a rival's wrath.Although refusal must imply his guiltthe shame and love of her almost prevailed;but if a present of such little worthwere now denied the sharer of his couch,the partner of his birth, 'twould prove indeedthe earth born heifer other than she seemed—and so he gave his mistress up to her.Juno regardful of Jove's cunning art,lest he might change her to her human form,gave the unhappy heifer to the chargeof Argus, Aristorides, whose headwas circled with a hundred glowing eyes;of which but two did slumber in their turnwhilst all the others kept on watch and guard.Whichever way he stood his gaze was fixedon Io—even if he turned awayhis watchful eyes on Io still remained.He let her feed by day; but when the sunwas under the deep world he shut her up,and tied a rope around her tender neck.She fed upon green leaves and bitter herbs and on the cold ground slept—too often bare,she could not rest upon a cushioned couch.She drank the troubled waters. Hoping aidshe tried to stretch imploring arms to Argus,but all in vain for now no arms remained;the sound of bellowing was all she heard,and she was frightened with her proper voice.Where former days she loved to roam and sport,she wandered by the banks of Inachus:there imaged in the stream she saw her hornsand, startled, turned and fled. And Inachusand all her sister Naiads knew her not,although she followed them, they knew her not,although she suffered them to touch her sidesand praise her.When the ancient Inachusgathered sweet herbs and offered them to her,she licked his hands, kissing her father's palms,nor could she more restrain her falling tears.If only words as well as tears would flow,she might implore his aid and tell her nameand all her sad misfortune; but, instead,she traced in dust the letters of her namewith cloven hoof; and thus her sad estatewas known. “Ah wretched me! ” her father cried;and as he clung around her horns and neckrepeated while she groaned, “Ah wretched me!Art thou my daughter sought in every clime?When lost I could not grieve for thee as nowthat thou art found; thy sighs instead of wordsheave up from thy deep breast, thy longings giveme answer. I prepared the nuptial torchand bridal chamber, in my ignorance,since my first hope was for a son in law;and then I dreamed of children from the match:but now the herd may furnish thee a mate,and all thy issue of the herd must be.Oh that a righteous death would end my grief!—it is a dreadful thing to be a God!Behold the lethal gate of death is shutagainst me, and my growing grief must lastthroughout eternity.”While thus he moanedcame starry Argus there, and Io borefrom her lamenting father. Thence he ledhis charge to other pastures; and removedfrom her, upon a lofty mountain sat,whence he could always watch her, undisturbed.The sovereign god no longer could endureto witness Io's woes. He called his son,whom Maia brightest of the Pleiadesbrought forth, and bade him slay the star eyed guard,argus. He seized his sleep compelling wandand fastened waving wings on his swift feet,and deftly fixed his brimmed hat on his head:—lo, Mercury, the favoured son of Jove,descending to the earth from heaven's plains,put off his cap and wings,— though still retainedhis wand with which he drove through pathless wildssome stray she goats, and as a shepherd fared,piping on oaten reeds melodious tunes.Argus, delighted with the charming soundof this new art began; “Whoever thou art,sit with me on this stone beneath the treesin cooling shade, whilst browse the tended flockabundant herbs; for thou canst see the shadeis fit for shepherds.” Wherefore, Mercurysat down beside the keeper and conversedof various things—passing the laggard hours.—then soothly piped he on the joined reedsto lull those ever watchful eyes asleep;but Argus strove his languor to subdue,and though some drowsy eyes might slumber, stillwere some that vigil kept. Again he spoke,(for the pipes were yet a recent art)“I pray thee tell what chance discovered these.”To him the God, “ A famous Naiad dweltamong the Hamadryads, on the coldArcadian summit Nonacris, whose namewas Syrinx. Often she escaped the Gods,that wandered in the groves of sylvan shades,and often fled from Satyrs that pursued.Vowing virginity, in all pursuitsshe strove to emulate Diana's ways:and as that graceful goddess wears her robe,so Syrinx girded hers that one might wellbelieve Diana there. Even though her bowwere made of horn, Diana's wrought of gold,vet might she well deceive.“Now chanced it Pan.Whose head was girt with prickly pines, espiedthe Nymph returning from the Lycian Hill,and these words uttered he: ”—But Mercuryrefrained from further speech, and Pan's appealremains untold. If he had told it all,the tale of Syrinx would have followed thus:—but she despised the prayers of Pan, and fledthrough pathless wilds until she had arrivedthe placid Ladon's sandy stream, whose wavesprevented her escape. There she imploredher sister Nymphs to change her form: and Pan,believing he had caught her, held insteadsome marsh reeds for the body of the Nymph;and while he sighed the moving winds beganto utter plaintive music in the reeds,so sweet and voice like that poor Pan exclaimed;“Forever this discovery shall remaina sweet communion binding thee to me.”—and this explains why reeds of different length,when joined together by cementing wax,derive the name of Syrinx from the maid. Such words the bright god Mercury would say;but now perceiving Argus' eyes were dimmedin languorous doze, he hushed his voice and touchedthe drooping eyelids with his magic wand,compelling slumber. Then without delayhe struck the sleeper with his crescent sword,where neck and head unite, and hurled his head,blood dripping, down the rocks and rugged cliff.Low lies Argus: dark is the light of allhis hundred eyes, his many orbed lightsextinguished in the universal gloomthat night surrounds; but Saturn's daughter spreadtheir glister on the feathers of her bird,emblazoning its tail with starry gems.Juno made haste, inflamed with towering rage,to vent her wrath on Io; and she raisedin thought and vision of the Grecian girla dreadful Fury. Stings invisible,and pitiless, she planted in her breast,and drove her wandering throughout the globe.The utmost limit of her laboured way,O Nile, thou didst remain. Which, having reached,and placed her tired knees on that river's edge,she laid her there, and as she raised her necklooked upward to the stars, and groaned and weptand mournfully bellowed: trying thus to plead,by all the means she had, that Jupitermight end her miseries. Repentant Joveembraced his consort, and entreated herto end the punishment: “Fear not,” he said,“For she shall trouble thee no more.” He spoke,and called on bitter Styx to hear his oath.And now imperial Juno, pacified,permitted Io to resume her form,—at once the hair fell from her snowy sides;the horns absorbed, her dilate orbs decreased;the opening of her jaws contracted; handsappeared and shoulders; and each transformed hoofbecame five nails. And every mark or formthat gave the semblance of a heifer changed,except her fair white skin; and the glad Nymphwas raised erect and stood upon her feet.But long the very thought of speech, that shemight bellow as a heifer, filled her mindwith terror, till the words so long forgotfor some sufficient cause were tried once more. and since that time, the linen wearing throngof Egypt have adored her as a God;for they believe the seed of Jove prevailed;and when her time was due she bore to hima son called Epaphus; who also dwellsin temples with his mother in that land.Now Phaethon, whose father was the Sun,was equal to his rival, Epaphus,in mind and years; and he was glad to boastof wonders, nor would yield to Epaphusfor pride of Phoebus, his reputed sire.Unable to endure it, Io's sonthus mocked him; “Poor, demented fellow, whatwill you not credit if your mother speaks,you are so puffed up with the fond conceitof your imagined sire, the Lord of Day.”shame crimsoned in his cheeks, but Phaethonwithholding rage, reported all the tauntsof Epaphus to Clymene his mother:“'Twill grieve you, mother, I, the bold and free,was silent; and it shames me to reportthis dark reproach remains unchallenged. Oh,if I am born of race divine, give proofof that illustrious descent and claimmy right to Heaven.” Around his mother's neckhe drew his arms, and by the head of Merops,and by his own, and by the nuptial torchof his beloved sisters, he imploredfor some true token of his origin.Or moved by Phaethon's importuned words,or by the grievous charge, who might declare?She raised her arms to Heaven, and gazing fullupon the broad sun said; “I swear to youby yonder orb, so radiant and bright,which both beholds and hears us while we speak,that you are his begotten son.—You arethe child of that great light which sways the world:and if I have not spoken what is true,let not mine eyes behold his countenance,and let this fatal moment be the lastthat I shall look upon the light of day!Nor will it weary you, my son, to reachyour father's dwelling; for the very placewhere he appears at dawn is near our land.Go, if it please you, and the very truthlearn from your father.” Instantly sprang forthexultant Phaethon. Overjoyed with wordsso welcome, he imagined he could leapand touch the skies. And so he passed his landof Ethiopia, and the Indies, hotbeneath the tawny sun, and there he turnedhis footsteps to his father's Land of Dawn. Book 2
Glowing with gold, flaming with carbuncleson stately columns raised, refulgent shonethe palace of the Sun, with polished domeof ivory gleaming, and with portals twainof burnished silver. And the workmanshipexceeded all the wealth of gems and gold;for there had Mulciber engraved the seasencircling middle earth; the round of earth,and heaven impending over the land.And thereamid the waves were azure deities:melodious Triton and elusive Proteus; thereAegeaan pressing with his arms the backs.Of monstrous whales; and Doris in the seaand all her daughters; some amid the wavesand others sitting on the bank to drytheir sea-green hair, and others borne aboutby fishes. Each was made to show a fairresemblance to her sisters—yet not oneappearance was assigned to all—they seemedas near alike as sisters should in truth.And men and cities, woods and savage beasts,and streams and nymphs, and sylvan deitieswere carved upon the land; and over thesean image of the glittering sky was fixed;—six signs were on the right, six on the left.Here when audacious Phaethon arrivedby steep ascending paths, without delayhe entered in the shining palace-gatesof his reputed parent, making hasteto stand in his paternal presence. There,unable to endure the dazzling light,he waited at a distance.Phoebus sat,arrayed in royal purple, on a thronethat glittered with the purest emeralds.— there to the left and right, Day, Month and Year,time and the Hours, at equal distance stood;and vernal Spring stood crowned with wreathed flowers;and naked Summer stood with sheaves of wheat;and Autumn stood besmeared with trodden grapes;and icy Winter rough with hoary hair.And from the midst, with orbs that view the world,Phoebus beheld the trembling youth, fear-struck,in mute amazement, and he said; “Declarethe reason of thy journey. What wilt thouin this my palace, Phaethon my childbeloved?”And to him replied the youth;“O universal light of all the world,my father Phoebus, if thy name be mine,if Clymene has not concealed her sinbeneath some pretext, give to me, my sire,a token to declare thy fatherhoodwhich may establish my assured descent,and leave no dark suspicions in our minds.”—then Phoebus from his shining brows cast downhis circling rays; called Phaethon to him,and as he held him to his breast replied;“O child most worthy of thy sire, the truthwas told thee by thy mother; wherefore doubtsto dissipate, consider thy desire,and ask of me that I may freely give:yea, let the Nether Lake, beyond our view,(which is the oath of Gods inviolate)be witness to my word.”When this was saidthe happy youth at once began to pleadcommand and guidance of his father's steeds,wing-footed, and his chariot for a day.But Phoebus much repented that he sware,and thrice and four times shook his radiant head;“Ah, would I might refuse my plighted word;and oh, that it were lawful to denythe promised boon.—For I confess, O son,this only I should keep from thee—and yet'Tis lawful to dissuade. It is unsafeto satisfy thy will. It is a greatrequest, O Phaethon, which neither suitsthy utmost strength nor tender years; for thouart mortal, and thou hast aspired to thingsimmortal. Ignorance has made thy thoughttranscend the province of the Gods. I vauntno vain exploits; but only I can standsecurely on the flame-fraught axle-tree:even the Ruler of Olympian Gods,who hurls fierce lightnings with his great right hand,may never dare to drive this chariot,and what art thou to equal mighty Jove?“The opening path is steep and difficult,for scarcely can the steeds, refreshed at dawn,climb up the steeps: and when is reached the height,extreme of midmost Heaven, and sea and earthare viewed below, my trembling breast is filledwith fearful apprehensions: and requiresthe last precipitous descent a surecommand. Then, also, Tethys, who receivesme in her subject waves, is wont to fearlest I should fall disastrous. And aroundthe hastening sky revolves in constant whirl,drawing the lofty stars with rapid twist.“I struggle on. The force that overcomesthe heavenly bodies overwhelms me not,and I am borne against that rapid globe.Suppose the chariot thine: what canst thou do?Canst thou drive straight against the twisted poleand not be carried from the lofty pathby the swift car? Art thou deceived to thinkthere may be groves and cities of the Gods,and costly temples wondrously endowed?“The journey is beset with dreadful snaresand shapes of savage animals. If thoushouldst hold upon thy way without mistakeyet must thy journey be through Taurus' horns,and through the Bow Haemonian, and the jawsof the fierce Lion, and the cruel armsof Scorpion, bent throughout a vast expanse,—and Cancer's curving arms reversely bent.“It is no easy task for thee to rulethe mettled four-foot steeds, enflamed in firesthat kindle in their breasts, forth issuingin breathings from their mouths and nostrils hot;—I scarce restrain them, as their struggling neckspull on the harness, when their heated firesare thus aroused.“And, O my son, lest Imay be the author of a baneful gift,beware, and as the time permits recallthy rash request. Forsooth thou hast besoughtundoubted signs of thy descent from me?My fears for thee are certain signs that thouart of my race—by my paternal fears'Tis manifest I am thy father. Lo!Behold my countenance! and oh, that thoucouldst even pierce my bosom with thine eyes,and so discover my paternal cares!“Look round thee on the treasured world's delightsand ask the greatest blessing of the sky,or sea or land, and thou shalt suffer norepulse: but only this I must deplore,which rightly named would be a penaltyand not an honour.—Thou hast made requestof punishment and not a gift indeed.O witless boy! why dost thou hold my neckwith thy caressing arms? For, doubt it not,as I have sworn it by the Stygian Waves,whatever thou shalt wish, it shall be given—but thou shouldst wish more wisely.”