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.