Bulfinch's Mythology: The Age of Fable

Ch. 3: Io and Callisto, Diana and Actaeon

Jupiter and Juno, although husband and wife, did not live

together very happily. Jupiter did not love his wife very much,

and Juno distrusted her husband, and was always accusing him of

unfaithfulness. One day she perceived that it suddenly grew

dark, and immediately suspected that her husband had raised a

cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear the light.

She brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband, on the banks of

a glassy river, with a beautiful heifer standing near him. Juno

suspected that the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of

mortal mould. This was indeed the case; for it was Io, the

daughter of the river god Inachus, whom Jupiter had been flirting

with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had

changed into that form.

Juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer, praised its

beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd. Jupiter, to

stop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the

earth. Juno asked to have it as a gift. What could Jupiter do?

He was loth to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so

trifling a present as a simple heifer? He could not, without

arousing suspicion; so he consented. The goddess was not yet

relieved of her suspicions; and she delivered the heifer to

Argus, to be strictly watched.

Now Argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep

with more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of Io

constantly. He suffered her to feed through the day, and at

night tied her up with a vile rope round her neck. She would

have stretched out her arms to implore freedom of Argus, but she

had no arms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that

frightened even herself. She saw her father and her sisters, went

near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them

admire her beauty. Her father reached her a tuft o gras, and she

licked the outstretched hand. She longed to make herself known

to him, and would have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were

wanting. At length she bethought herself of writing, and

inscribed her name it was a short one with her hoof on the

sand. Inachus recognized it, and discovering that his daughter,

whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden under this disguise,

mourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed,

"Alas! My daughter, it would have been a less grief to have lost

you altogether!" While he thus lamented, Argus, observing, came

and drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, whence he

could see in every direction.

Jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress,

and calling Mercury, told him to go and despatch Argus. Mercury

made haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on his

head, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from the

heavenly towers to the earth. There he laid aside his wings, and

kept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd

driving his flock. As he strolled on he blew upon his pipes.

These were what are called the Syrinx or Pandean pipes. Argus

listened with delight, for he had never heard the instrument

before. "Young man," said he, "come and take a seat by me on

this stone. There is no better place for your flock to graze in

than hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds

love." Mercury sat down, talked, and told stories until it grew

late, and played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping

to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for Argus

still contrived to keep some of his eyes open, though he shut the

rest.

Among other stories, Mercury told him how the instrument on which

he played was invented. "There was a certain nymph, whose name

was Syrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the

wood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithful

worshipper of Diana, and followed the chase. You would have

thought it was Diana herself, had you seen her in her hunting

dress, only that her bow was of horn and Diana's of silver. One

day, as she was returning from the chase, Pan met her, told her

just this, and added more of the same sort. She ran away,

without stopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she

came to the bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had

only time to call for help on her friends, the water nymphs. They

heard and consented. Pan threw his arms around what he supposed

to be the form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of

reeds! As he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds,

and produced a plaintive melody. The god, charmed with the

novelty and with the sweetness of the music, said 'Thus, then, at

least, you shall be mine.' And he took some of the reeds, and

placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an

instrument which he called Syrinx, in honor of the nymph."

Before Mercury had finished his story, he saw Argus's eyes all

asleep. As his head nodded forward on his breast, Mercury with

one stroke cut his neck through, and tumbled his head down the

rocks. O hapless Argus! The light of your hundred eyes is

quenched at once! Juno took them and put them as ornaments on

the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day.

But the vengeance of Juno was not yet satiated. She sent a

gadfly to torment Io, who fled over the whole world from its

pursuit. She swam through the Ionian Sea, which derived its name

from her, then roamed over the plains of Illyria, ascended Mount

Haemus, and crossed the Thracian strait, thence named the

Bosphorus (cow-bearer), rambled on through Scythia and the

country of the Cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of

the Nile. At length Jupiter interceded for her, and, upon his

promising not to pay her any more attentions, Juno consented to

restore her to her form. It was curious to see her gradually

recover her former self. The coarse hairs fell from her body,

her horns shrunk up, her eyes grew narrower, her mouth shorter;

hands and fingers came instead of hoofs to her forefeet; in fine,

there was nothing left of the heifer except her beauty. At first

she was afraid to speak for fear she should low, but gradually

she recovered her confidence, and was restored to her father and

sisters.

In a poem dedicated to Leigh Hunt, by Keats, the following

allusion to the story of Pan and Syrinx occurs:--

"So did he feel who pulled the boughs aside,

That we might look into a forest wide,

-

Telling us how fair trembling Syrinx fled

Arcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread.

Poor nymph poor Pan how he did weep to find

Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind

Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain,

Full of sweet desolation, balmy pain."

CALLISTO

Callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of Juno, and

the goddess changed her into a bear. "I will take away," said

she, :"that beauty with which you have captivated my husband."

Down fell Callisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch

out her arms in supplication,-- they were already beginning to be

covered with black hair. Her hands grew rounded, became armed

with crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth, which Jove

used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her

voice, which if unchanged would have moved the heart to pity,

became a growl, more fit to inspire terror. Yet her former

disposition remained, and, with continued groaning, she bemoaned

her fate, and stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her

paws to beg for mercy; and felt that Jove was unkind, though she

could not tell him so. Ah, how often, afraid to stay in the

woods all night alone, she wandered about the neighborhood of her

former haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so

lately a huntress, fly in terror from the hunters! Often she

fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild

beast herself; and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears.

One day a youth espied her as he was hunting. She saw him and

recognized him as her own son, now grown a young man. She

stopped, and felt inclined to embrace him. As she was about to

approach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the

point of transfixing her, when Jupiter, beholding, arrested the

crime, and, snatching away both of them, placed them in the

heavens as the Great and Little Bear.

Juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastened

to ancient Tethys and Oceanus, the powers of ocean, and, in

answer to their inquiries, thus told the cause of her coming; "Do

you ask why I, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly

plains and sought your depths. Learn that I am supplanted in

heaven,-- my place is given to another. You will hardly believe

me; but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see the

two, of whom I have so much reason to complain, exalted to the

heavens, in that part where the circle is the smallest, in the

neighborhood of the pole. Why should any one hereafter tremble

at the thought of offending Juno, when such rewards are the

consequence of my displeasure! See what I have been able to

effect! I forbade her to wear the human form,-- she is placed

among the stars! So do my punishments result,-- such is the

extent of my power! Better that she should have resumed her

former shape, as I permitted Io to do. Perhaps he means to marry

her, and put me away! But you, my foster parents, if you feel

for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me,

show it, I beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from

coming into your waters." The powers of the ocean assented, and

consequently the two constellations of the Great and Little Bear

move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the other

stars do, beneath the ocean.

Milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the Bear

never sets, when he says,

"Let my lamp at midnight hour

Be seen in some high lonely tower,

Where I may oft outwatch the Bear."

Il Penseroso

And Prometheus, in James Russell Lowell's poem, says,

"One after one the stars have risen and set,

Sparkling upon the hoar-frost of my chain;

The Bear that prowled all night about the fold

Of the North Star, hath shrunk into his den,

Scared by the blithsome footsteps of the dawn."

The last star in the tail of the Little Bear is the Pole star,

called also the Cynosure. Milton says,

"Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures

While the landscape round it measures.

-

Towers and battlements it sees

Bosomed high in tufted trees,

Where perhaps some beauty lies

The Cynosure of neighboring eyes."

L'Allegro.

The reference here is both to the Pole-star as the guide of

mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the North. He calls

it also the "Star of Aready," because Callisto's boy was named

Arcas, and they lived in Arcadia. In Milton's Comus, the elder

brother, benighted in the woods, says,

"Some gentle taper!

Through a rush candle, from

the wicker hole

Of some clay habitation,

visit us

With thy long levelled rule

of streaming light,

And thou shalt be our star of Aready,

Or Tyrian Chynsure."

DIANA AND ACTAEON

It was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either

goal, when young Actaeon, son of King Cadmus, thus addressed the

youths who with him were hunting the stag in the mountains:--

"Friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of our

victims; we have had sport enough for one day, and tomorrow we

can renew our labors. Now, while Phoebus parches the earth, let

us put by our instruments and indulge ourselves with rest."

There was a valley thickly enclosed with cypresses and pines,

sacred to the huntress-queen, Diana. In the extremity of the

valley was a cave, not adorned with art, but nature had

counterfeited art in its construction, for she had turned the

arch of its roof with stones as delicately fitted as if by the

hand of man. A fountain burst out from one side, whose open

basin was bounded by a grassy rim. Here the goddess of the woods

used to come when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in

the sparkling water.

One day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed her

javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another,

while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. Then Crocale,

the most skilful of them, arranged her hair, and Nephele, Hyale,

and the rest drew water in capacious urns. While the goddess was

thus employed in the labors of the toilet, behold, Actaeon,

having quitted his companions, and rambling without any especial

object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. As he

presented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing

a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with

their bodies. But she was taller than the rest, and overtopped

them all by a head. Such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset

or at dawn came over the countenance of Diana thus taken by

surprise. Surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned

half away, and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. As

they were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the

intruder, adding these words: "Now go and tell, if you can, that

you have seen Diana unapparelled." Immediately a pair of

branching stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in

length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his

arms long legs, his body was covered with a hairy spotted hide.

Fear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled.

He could not but admire his own speed; but when he saw his horns

in the water, "Ah, wretched me!: he would have said, but no sound

followed the effort. He groaned, and tears flowed down the face

that had taken the place of his own. Yet his consciousness

remained. What shall he do? Go home to seek the palace, or lie

hid in the woods? The latter he was afraid, the former he was

ashamed, to do. While he hesitated the dogs saw him. First

Melampus, a Spartan dog, gave the signal with his bark, then

Pamphagus, Dorceus, Lelaps, Theron, Nape, Tigris, and all the

rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind. Over rocks and

cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he

fled, and they followed. Where he had often chased the stag and

cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his

own huntsmen. He longed to cry out, "I am Actaeon; recognize

your master!" But the words came not at his will. The air

resounded with the bark of the dogs. Presently one fastened on

his back, another seized his shoulder. While they held their

master, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in

his flesh. He groaned, not in a human voice, yet certainly not

in a stag's, and, falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and

would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had them.

His friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked

every where for Actaeon, calling on him to join the sport. At

the sound of his name, he turned his head, and heard them regret

that he should be away. He earnestly wished he was. He would

have been well pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to

feel them was too much. They were all around him, rending and

tearing; and it was not till they had torn his life out that the

anger of Diana was satisfied.

In the "Epic of Hades" there is a description of Actaeon and his

change of form. Perhaps the most beautiful lines in it are when

Actaeon, changed to a stag, first hears his own hounds and flees.

"But as I gazed, and careless turned and passed

Through the thick wood, forgetting what had been,

And thinking thoughts no longer, swift there came

A mortal terror; voices that I knew.

My own hounds' bayings that I loved before,

As with them often o'er the purple hills

I chased the flying hart from slope to slope,

Before the slow sun climbed the eastern peaks,

Until the swift sun smote the western plain;

Whom often I had cheered by voice and glance,

Whom often I had checked with hand and thong;

Grim followers, like the passions, firing me,

True servants, like the strong nerves, urging me

On many a fruitless chase, to find and take

Some too swift-fleeting beauty, faithful feet

And tongues, obedient always: these I knew

Clothed with a new-born force and vaster grown,

And stronger than their master; and I thought,

What if they tore me with their jaws, nor knew

That once I ruled them, brute pursuing brute,

And I the quarry? Then I turned and fled

If it was I indeed that feared and fled

Down the long glades, and through the tangled brakes,

Where scarce the sunlight pierced; fled on and on,

And panted, self-pursued. But evermore

The dissonant music which I knew so sweet,

When by the windy hills, the echoing vales

And whispering pines it rang; now far, now near

As from my rushing steed I leant and cheered

With voice and horn the chase; this brought to me

Fear of I knew not what, which bade me fly,

Fly always, fly; but when my heart stood still,

And all my limbs were stiffened as I fled,

Just as the white moon ghost-like climbed the sky,

Nearer they came and nearer, baying loud,

With bloodshot eyes and red jaws dripping foam;

And when I strove to check their savagery,

Speaking with words; no voice articulate came,

Only a dumb, low bleat. Then all the throng

Leapt swift upon me and tore me as I lay,

And left me man again."

In Shelley's poem Adonais is the following allusion to the story

of Actaeon:--

"Midst others of less note came one frail form,

A phantom among men; companionless

As the last cloud of an expiring storm,

Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess,

Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness,

Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray

With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness;

And his own Thoughts, along that rugged way,

Pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey."

Adonais, stanza 31.

The allusion is probably to Shelley himself.

LATONA AND THE RUSTICS

Some thought the goddess in this instance more severe than was

just, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent

with her virgin dignity. As usual, the recent event brought

older ones to mind, and one of the bystanders told this story.

"Some countrymen of Lycia once insulted the goddess Latona, but

not with impunity. When I was young, my father, who had grown

too old for active labors, sent me to Lycia to drive thence some

choice oxen, and there I saw the very pond and marsh where the

wonder happened. Near by stood an ancient altar, black with the

smoke of sacrifice and almost buried among the reeds. I inquired

whose altar it might be, whether of Faunus or the Naiads or some

god of the neighboring mountain, and one of the country people

replied, 'No mountain or river god possesses this altar, but she

whom royal Juno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying

her any spot of earth whereon to rear her twins. Bearing in her

arms the infant deities, Latona reached this land, weary with her

burden and parched with thirst. By chance she espied in the

bottom of the valley this pond of clear water, where the country

people were at work gathering willows and osiers. The goddess

approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst

in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her. 'Why do you

refuse me water?' said she; 'water is free to all. Nature allows

no one to claim as property the sunshine, the air, or the water.

I come to take my share of the common blessing. Yet I ask it of

you as a favor. I have no intention of washing my limbs in it,

weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. My mouth is

so dry that I can hardly speak. A draught of water would be

nectar to me; it would revive me, and I would own myself indebted

to you for life itself. Let these infants move your pity, who

stretch out their little arms as if to plead for me'; and the

children, as it happened, were stretching out their arms.

"Who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the

goddess? But these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they even

added jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave the

place. Nor was this all. They waded into the pond and stirred

up the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to

drink. Latona was so angry that she ceased to feel her thirst.

She no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to

heaven exclaimed, 'May they never quit that pool, but pass their

lives there!' And it came to pass accordingly. They now live in

the water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads

above the surface, or swimming upon it. Sometimes they come out

upon the bank, but soon leap back again into the water. They

still use their base voices in railing, and though they have the

water all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of

it. Their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths

have become stretched by constant railing, their necks have

shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their

bodies. Their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies

white, and in short they are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy

pool."

This story explains the allusion in one of Milton's sonnets, "On

the detraction which followed upon his writing certain

treatises."

"I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs

By the known laws of ancient liberty,.

When straight a barbarous noise environs me

Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.

As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs

Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny,

Which after held the sun and moon in fee."

The persecution which Latona experienced from Juno is alluded to

in the story. The tradition was that the future mother of Apollo

and Diana, flying from the wrath of Juno, besought all the

islands of the Aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all

feared too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival.

Delos alone consented to become the birthplace of the future

deities. Delos was then a floating island; but when Latona

arrived there, Jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the

bottom of the sea, that it might be a secure resting place for

his beloved. Byron alludes to Delos in his Don Juan:--

"The isles of Greece! The isles of Greece!

Where burning Sappho loved and sung,

Where grew the arts of war and peace,

Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!"

PHAETON

Epaphus was the son of Jupiter and Io. Phaeton, child of the

Sun, was one day boasting to him of his high descent and of his

father Phoebus. Epaphus could not bear it. "Foolish fellow,"

said he "you believe your mother in all things, and you are

puffed up by your pride in a false father." Phaeton went in rage

and shame and reported this to his mother, Clymene. "If," said

he, "I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof

of it, and establish my claim to the honor." Clymene stretched

forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "I call to witness

the Sun which looks down upon us, that I have told you the truth.

If I speak falsely, let this be the last time I behold his light.

But it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the

land whence the sun rises lies next to ours. Go and demand of

him whether he will own you as a son" Phaeton heard with delight.

He travelled to India, which lies directly in the regions of

sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence

the Sun begins his course.

The palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering

with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the

ceilings, and silver the doors. The workmanship surpassed the

material; for upon the walls Vulcan had represented earth, sea

and skies, with their inhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs,

some sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes,

while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair.

Their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike, but such as

sisters' ought to be. The earth had its towns and forests and

rivers and rustic divinities. Over all was carved the likeness

of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the twelve signs

of the zodiac, six on each side.

Clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls

of his disputed father. He approached the paternal presence, but

stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear.

Phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne which

glittered as with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stood

the Day, the Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals, the

Hours. Spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and

Summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears

of ripened grain, and Autumn, with his feet stained with grape

juice, and icy Winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost.

Surrounded by these attendants, the Sun, with the eye that sees

every thing, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and

splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand.

The youth replied, "Oh, light of the boundless world, Phoebus, my

father, if you permit me to use that name, give me some

proof, I beseech you, by which I may be known as yours." He

ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all

around his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "My

son, you deserve not to be disowned, and I confirm what your

mother has told you. To put an end to your doubts, ask what you

will, the gift shall be yours. I call to witness that dreadful

lake, which I never saw, but which we gods swear by in our most

solemn engagements." Phaeton immediately asked to be permitted

for one day to drive the chariot of the sun. The father repented

of his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head

in warning. "I have spoken rashly," said he; "only this request

I would fain deny. I beg you to withdraw it. It is not a safe

boon, nor one, my Phaeton, suited to your youth and strength.

Your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power.

In your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even the gods

themselves may do. None but myself may drive the flaming car of

day; not even Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunder

bolts. The first part of the way is steep, and such as the

horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is

high up in the heavens, whence I myself can scarcely, without

alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath

me. The last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires

most careful driving. Tethys, who is waiting to receive me,

often trembles for me lest I should fall headlong. Add to all

this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the

stars with it. I have to be perpetually on my guard lest that

movement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me

also away. Suppose I should lend you the chariot, what would you

do? Could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving

under you? Perhaps you think that there are forests and cities,

the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. On the

contrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters.

You pass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and

near the Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms

in one direction and the Crab in another. Nor will you find it

easy to guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire which

they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. I can

scarcely govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the

reins. Beware, my son, lest I should give you a fatal gift;

recall your request while yet you may. Do you ask me for proof

that you are sprung from my blood? I give you a proof in my

fears for you. Look at my face,-- I would that you could look

into my breast, you would there see all a father's anxiety.

Finally," he continued, "look round the world and choose whatever

you will of what earth or sea contains most precious, ask it

and fear no refusal. This only I pray you not to urge. It is

not honor, but destruction you seek. Why do you hang round my

neck and still entreat me? You shall have it if you persist,

the oath is sworn and must be kept, but I beg you to choose

more wisely."

He ended; but the youth rejected all admonition, and held to his

demand. So, having resisted as long as he could, Phoebus at last

led the way to where stood the lofty chariot.

It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan; the axle was of gold, the

pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat

were rows of chrysolites and diamonds, which reflected all around

the brightness of the sun. While the daring youth gazed in

admiration, the early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the

east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. The stars

withdrew, marshalled by the Daystar, which last of all retired

also. The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and

the Moon preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to harness up the

horses. They obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the

steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. Then the

father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and

made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. He set

the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "If, my

son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and

hold tight the reins. They go fast enough of their own accord;

the labor is to hold them in. You are not to take the straight

road directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left.

Keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern

and the southern alike. You will see the marks of the wheels,

and they will serve to guide you. And, that the skies and the

earth may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high,

or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will

set the earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. And

now I leave you to your chance, which I hope will plan better for

you than you have done for yourself. Night is passing out of the

western gates and we can delay no longer. Take the reins; but if

at last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice,

stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and warm the

earth." The agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect and

grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his

reluctant parent.

Meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery

breath, and stamp the ground impatient. Now the bars are let

down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before

them. They dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and

outrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern

goal. The steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was

lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed

hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its

accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. They rush

headlong and leave the travelled road. He is alarmed, and knows

not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power. Then,

for the first time, the Great and Little Bear were scorched with

heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the

water; and the Serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole,

torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage

revive. Bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his

plough, and all unused to rapid motion.

When hapless Phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in

vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with

terror. In spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his

eyes grew dim. He wished he had never touched his father's

horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his

request. He is borne along like a vessel that flies before a

tempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his

prayers. What shall he do? Much of the heavenly road is left

behind, but more remains before. He turns his eyes from one

direction to the other; now to the goal whence he began his

course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to

reach. He loses his self-command, and knows not what to do,

whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets

the names of the horses. He sees with terror the monstrous forms

scattered over the surface of heaven. Here the Scorpion extended

his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching

over two signs of the zodiac. When the boy beheld him, reeking

with poison and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and

the reins fell from his hands. The horses, feeling the reins

loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off

into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the

chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down

almost to the earth. The moon saw with astonishment her

brother's chariot running beneath her own. The clouds begin to

smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched

with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches

burn, the harvest is ablaze! But these are small things. Great

cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with

their people were consumed to ashes! The forest-clad mountains

burned, Athos and Taurus and Tmolus and OEte; Ida, once

celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the Muses' mountain

Helicon, and Haemus; AEtna, with fires within and without, and

Parnassus, with his two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to

part with his snowy crown. Her cold climate was no protection to

Scythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa and Pindus, and, greater than

both, Olympus; the Alps high in air, and the Apennines crowned

with clouds.

Then Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat

intolerable. The air he breathed was like the air of a furnace

and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy

darkness. He dashed forward he knew not whither. Then, it is

believed, the people of AEthiopia became black by the blood being

forced so suddenly to the surface, and the Libyan desert was

dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day. The

Nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their

waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks; Tanais

smoked, and Caicus, Xanthus and Meander. Babylonian Euphrates

and Ganges, Tagus with golden sands, and Caijster where the swans

resort. Nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there

it still remains concealed. Where he used to discharge his

waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry

channels alone remained. The earth cracked open, and through the

chinks light broke into Tartarus, and frightened the king of

shadows and his queen. The sea shrank up. Where before was

water, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath

the waves lifted up their heads and became islands. The fishes

sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as

usual to sport on the surface. Even Nereus, and his wife Doris,

with the Nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for

refuge. Thrice Neptune essayed to raise his head above the

surface and thrice was driven back by the heat. Earth,

surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders

bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and

with a husky voice called on Jupiter.

"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment, and it

is your will that I perish with fire, why withhold your

thunderbolts? Let me at least fall by your hand. Is this the

reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? Is it for this

that I have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and

frankincense for your altars? But if I am unworthy of regard,

what has my brother Ocean done to deserve such a fate? If

neither of us can excite your pity, think, I pray you, of your

own heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which

sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. Atlas

faints, and scarce holds up his burden. If sea, earth, and

heaven perish, we fall into ancient Chaos. Save what yet remains

to us from the devouring flame. Oh, take thought for our

deliverance in this awful moment!"

Thus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no

more. Then Jupiter Omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods,

including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all

was lost unless some speedy remedy were applied, mounted the

lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and

hurls the forked lightnings. But at that time not a cloud was to

be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower

remaining unexhausted. He thundered, and brandishing a

lightning-bolt in his right hand launched it against the

charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seat and

from existence! Phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell headlong,

like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness

as it falls, and Eridanus, the great river, received him and

cooled his burning frame. The Italian Naiads reared a tomb for

him, and inscribed these words upon the stone:

"Driver of Phoebus' chariot, Phaeton,

Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone.

He could not rule his father's car of fire,

Yet was it much so nobly to aspire."

His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate were turned

into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears,

which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the

stream,

One of Prior's best remembered poems is that on the Female

Phaeton, from which we quote the last verse.

Kitty has been imploring her mother to allow her to go out into

the world as her friends have done, if only for once.

"Fondness prevailed, mamma gave way;

Kitty, at heart's desire,

Obtained the chariot for a day,

And set the world on fire."

Milman, in his poem of Samor, makes the following allusion to

Phaeton's story:--

"As when the palsied universe aghast

Lay .... mute and still,

When drove, so poets sing, the sun-born youth

Devious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's

Ill-granted chariot. Him the Thunderer hurled

From th'empyrean headlong to the gulf

Of the half-parched Eridanus, where weep

Even now the sister trees their amber tears

O'er Phaeton untimely dead."

In the beautiful lines of Walter Savage Lando describing the sea-

shell, there is an allusion to the sun's palace and chariot. The

water-nymph says,

" I have sinuous shells of pearly hue

Within, and things that lustre have imbibed

In the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked

His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave.

Shake one and it awakens; then apply

Its polished lip to your attentive car,

And it remembers its August abodes,

And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there."

Gebir, Book 1