OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. BOOK II. THE STORY OF PHAETON. THE Sun's bright palace, on high columns rais'd, On earth a different landscape courts the eyes, deities. O'er all, the heav'n's refulgent image shines; On either gate were six engraven signs. To his suspected father's palace went, Till pressing forward through the bright abode, He saw at distance, or the dazzling light Phœbus beheld the youth from off his throne; And cries aloud, "What wants my son? for know "Light of the world," the trembling youth replies "Illustrious parent! since you don't despise The parent's name, some certain token give, That I may Clymene's proud boast believe, Nor longer under false 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 son," said he, "Come to thy father's arms! for Clymene Has told thee true; a parent's name I own, And deem thee worthy to be call'd my son. As a sure proof, make some 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 sight." The youth transported, asks, without delay, To guard the Sun's bright chariot for a day. The god repented of the oath he took, For anguish thrice his radiant head he shook; |