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OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

T

BOOK II.

THE STORY OF PHAETON.

HE fun's bright palace, on high columns rais'd, With burnish'd gold and flaming jewels blaz'd; The folding gates diffus'd a filver light,

And with a milder gleam refresh'd the fight;
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 sea th' inferior earth embrac'd,
And Gods and Goddeffes the waters grac'd.
Ægeon here a mighty whale bestrode ;
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 fifters grace,
A fifter's likeness was in every face.

On earth a different landskip courts the eyes,
Men, towns, and beasts, in distant prospects rise,
And nymphs,and ftreams, and woods, and rural deities.
O'er all, the heaven's refulgent image fhines;
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 faw at distance, 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, ftand. Here fpring appears with flowery chaplets bound; Here fummer in her wheaten garland crown'd; Here autumn the rich troden grapes befmear; And hoary winter fhivers in the rear.

Phœbus beheld the youth from off his throne; That eye, which looks on all, was fix'd on one. He faw 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 66 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 son (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 fwear, whofe waves are hid in night,
"And roll impervious to my piercing sight.”
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 deûre.
"I'd fain deny this with which thou haft 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 steeds climb up the first ascent 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 steeps the evening ftage,
"And steddy reins must curb the horses' rage.

"Tethys

Tethys herself has fear'd to see me driven "Down headlong from the precipice of heaven. "Befides, confider what impetuous force "Turns stars and planets in a different course : "I steer 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 adverse whirls, and ftem the rapid pole? "But you perhaps may hope for pleafing woods, "And ftately 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 ftooping 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 clasps 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-strong 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 rash desire-; "You ask a gift that may your parent tell, "Let thefe 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.

"Choofs

Choose out a gift from feas, or earth, or skies, "For open to your wish 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 fon : "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 ftill 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 fpokes 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 surveys;
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 fteeds; the nimble hours obey:
From their full racks the generous fteeds 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 celestial ointment wet,
Of fovereign virtue to repel the heat;

Then

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