FROM OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

BOOK II.

The ftory of Phaeton.

THE 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 iv'ry was the cov'ring wrought,
The matter vy'd not with the sculptor'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 goddesses the waters grac'd:
Ægeon here a mighty whale beftrode;
Triton and Proteus (the deceiving god)

With Doris here were carv'd, and all her train,
Some loosely swimming in the figur'd main,

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While fome on rocks their dropping hair divide, 15
And fome on fishes thro' the waters glide.
Tho' various features did the fifters grace,
A fifter's likeness was in ev'ry face.

On earth a diff'rent landscape courts the eyes,
Men, towns, and beasts, in diftant prospects rife, 20(
And nymphs, and streams, and woods, and rural

deities;

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O'er all the heav'n's refulgent image shines ;
On either gate were fix engraven figns.

Here Phaeton, fill gaining on th' ascent,
To his fufpected father's palace went,
Till preffing forward thro' the bright abode,
He saw at distance the illustrious god;
He saw at distance, or the dazzling light
Had flash'd too ftrongly on his akeing fight.

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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 Spring appears with flow'ry chaplets bound, Here Summer in her wheaten garland crown'd; 35 Here Autumn the rich trodden grapes besmear, And hoary Winter shivers in the rear.

Phoebus beheld the youth from off his throne; That eye which looks on all was fix'd on one: He faw the boy's confusion in his face, Surpris'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."

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

The tender fire was touch'd with what he said, And flung the blaze of glories from his head,

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And bid the youth advance. "My fon," said 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 a fure proof, make some request, and I, "Whate'er it be, with that request comply; "By Styx I swear, whofe waves are hid in night, "And roll impervious to my piercing fight." The youth, transported, asks, without delay, To guide the fun'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; "Rash was my promise, rash is thy defire.

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"I'd fain deny this with which thou haft made, 65
"Or, what I can't deny, would fain diffuade.
"Too vaft and hazardous the task appears,
"Nor fuited to thy strength 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 axletree but I;
"Not Jove himself, the ruler of the sky,

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"That hurls the three-fork'd thunder from above,

"Dares try his ftrength; yet who so strong as Jove? "The steeds climb up the first ascent with pain, "And when the middle firmament they gain,

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"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 downfal steeps the ev'ning stage, "And fteady reins must curb the horses' rage. "Tethys herself has fear'd to see me driv'n "Down headlong from the precipice of heav'n. "Befides, confider what impetuous force "Turns ftars and planets in a diff'rent course: "I fteer against their motions; nor am I "Borne back by all the current of the sky. "But how could you resist the orbs that roll "In adverfe whirls, and ftem the rapid pole? "But you perhaps may hope for pleafing woods, "And ftately domes, and cities fill'd with gods, "While thro' a thousand fnares your progrefs lies, 95 "Where forms of starry monsters stock the skies: "For fhould you hit the doubtful way aright, "The Bull with flooping 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 fleeds, when from their noftrils flows "The fcorching fire that in their entrails glows: 105 "Ev'n I their headstrong fury scarce restrain, "When they grow warm and reftiff to the rein.

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"Let not my fon a fatal gift require,
"But, O! in time recall 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.
"Chufe out a gift from feas, or earth, or skies, 115
"For open to your with all nature lies,

"Only decline this one unequal task,
"For 'tis a mifchief, not a gift, you ask:
"You afk a real mifchief, Phaeton;

"Nay, hang not thus about my neck, my fon : 120
"I grant your wish, and Styx has heard my voice,
"Chufe what you will, but make a wifer choice."
Thus did the God th' unwary youth advise,

But he fill longs to travel thro' 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,

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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; 130
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 stars were filed; for Lucifer had chas'd
The ftars away, and fled himself at last.

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