And hoary Winter shivers in the rear. 
     Phoebus beheld the youth from off his throne;
  That eye, which looks on all, was fixed on one. 
  He saw the boy’s confusion in his face,
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  Surprised at all the wonders of the place;
  And cries aloud, ’What wants my son? for know
  My son thou art, and I must call thee so.’ 
    ‘Light of the world,’ the trembling youth replies,
  ’Illustrious parent! since you don’t despise
  The parent’s name, some certain token give,
  That I may Clymene’s proud boast believe,
  Nor longer under false reproaches grieve.’ 
     The tender sire was touched with what he said. 
  And flung the blaze of glories from his head,
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  And bid the youth advance:  ‘My son,’ said he,
  ’Come to thy father’s arms! for Clymene
  Has told thee true; a parent’s name I own,
  And deem thee worthy to be called my son. 
  As a sure proof, make some request, and I,
  Whate’er it be, with that request comply;
  By Styx I swear, whose waves are hid in night,
  And roll impervious to my piercing sight.’ 
     The youth transported, asks, without delay,
  To guide the Sun’s bright chariot for a day.
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     The god repented of the oath he took,
  For anguish thrice his radiant head he shook;
  ‘My son,’ says he, ’some other proof require,
  Rash was my promise, rash is thy desire. 
  I’d fain deny this wish which thou hast made,
  Or, what I can’t deny, would fain dissuade. 
  Too vast and hazardous the task appears,
  Nor suited to thy strength, nor to thy years. 
  Thy lot is mortal, but thy wishes fly
  Beyond the province of mortality: 
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  There is not one of all the gods that dares
  (However skilled in other great affairs)
  To mount the burning axle-tree, but I;
  Not Jove himself, the ruler of the sky,
  That hurls the three-forked thunder from above,
  Dares try his strength; yet who so strong as Jove? 
  The steeds climb up the first ascent with pain: 
  And when the middle firmament they gain,
  If downward from the heavens my head I bow,
  And see the earth and ocean hang below;
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  Even I am seized with horror and affright,
  And my own heart misgives me at the sight. 
  A mighty downfal steeps the evening stage,
  And steady reins must curb the horses’ rage. 
  Tethys herself has feared to see me driven
  Down headlong from the precipice of heaven. 
  Besides, consider what impetuous force
  Turns stars and planets in a different course: 
  I steer against their motions; nor am I 89
  Born back by all the current of the sky.
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  But how could you resist the orbs that roll
  In adverse whirls, and stem the rapid pole? 
  But you perhaps may hope for pleasing woods,
  And stately domes, and cities filled with gods;
  While through a thousand snares your progress