PhaËthon was the son of Apollo. One day he approached the palace of his father and begged a favor. Apollo was pleased with his youthful grace and beauty, and promised to grant his desire. PhaËthon then boldly asked the great god of the sun for permission to drive his horses for a single day. Then did Apollo regret his hasty promise, and beg PhaËthon to ask anything but that—because it is so dangerous to drive those fiery steeds. “You know not what you ask, my son, I am the only one who can drive the chariot of the sun safely through the heavens. Even Jupiter himself would not attempt so dangerous a task.” But PhaËthon was bold and proud, and finally Apollo yielded. The horses were harnessed, the gates unbarred, PhaËthon seized the reins, and away they flew! The horses knew that a weak hand held them, but they were going uphill and kept well in the course. So PhaËthon grew careless, and when the zenith was reached the horses paid no heed to his guidance. Exulting in their freedom from Apollo’s masterful hand, they galloped far from the path, now on this side, now on that. Phaethon struggles to rein in the four horses pulling the chariot Max F. Klepper (modern). Sometimes they came so near the earth that the leaves All the people on earth were afraid, and even the gods on high Olympus wondered what was amiss with Apollo, that his horses were so unruly. Finally Jupiter looked over the heavens, and, seeing the reckless PhaËthon, hurled a thunderbolt at him, and he fell headlong into the river Po. Hither every day came his sisters, the Heliades, wringing their hands and weeping for their beloved brother. At length the gods changed them into poplar trees, and their tears into amber. PhaËthon’s dearest friend, Cygnus, was continually plunging into the river, hoping to find the body of the rash youth, and he was changed into a swan. This bird now sails mournfully upon the waters, frequently dipping his head below the surface, as if still searching for his friend PhaËthon. |