Listen, and
choose again." And therewith he warned Phaethon of all the dangers that
beset the way,--the great steep that the steeds must climb, the numbing
dizziness of the height, the fierce constellations that breathe out
fire, and that descent in the west where the Sun seems to go headlong.
But these counsels only made the reckless boy more eager to win honor
of such a high enterprise.
"I will take care; only let me go," he begged.
Now Phoebus' had sworn by the black river Styx, an oath that none of
the gods dare break, and he was forced to keep his promise.
Already Aurora, goddess of dawn, had thrown open the gates of the east
and the stars were beginning to wane. The Hours came forth to harness
the four horses, and Phaethon looked with exultation at the splendid
creatures, whose lord he was for a day. Wild, immortal steeds they
were, fed with ambrosia, untamed as the winds; their very pet names
signified flame, and all that flame can do,--Pyrois, Eoues, Aethon,
Phlegon.
As the lad stood by, watching, Phoebus anointed his face with a philter
that should make him strong to endure the terrible heat and light, then
set the halo upon his head, with a last word of counsel.
"Follow the road," said he, "and never turn aside. Go not too high or
too low, for the sake of heavens and earth; else men and gods will
suffer. The Fates alone know whether evil is to come of this.
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