ing breezes behind, and very soon they knew
that these were not the hands of the god, their master, that held the
golden reins. Like an air-ship without its accustomed ballast, the
chariot rolled unsteadily, and not only the boy's light weight but his
light hold on their bridles made them grow mad with a lust for speed.
The white foam flew from their mouths like the spume from the giant
waves of a furious sea, and their pace was swift as that of a bolt
that is cast by the arm of Zeus.

Yet Phaeton had no fear, and when they heard him shout in rapture,
"Quicker still, brave ones! more swiftly still!" it made them speed
onwards, madly, blindly, with the headlong rush of a storm. There was
no hope for them to keep on the beaten track, and soon Phaeton had his
rapture checked by the terrible realisation that they had strayed far
out of the course and that his hands were not strong enough to guide
them. Close to the Great Bear and the Little Bear they passed, and
these were scorched with heat. The Serpent which, torpid, chilly and
harmless, lies coiled round the North Pole, felt a warmth that made it
grow fierce and harmful again. Downward, ever downward galloped the
maddened horses, and soon Phaeton saw the sea as a shield of molten
brass, and the earth so near that all things on it were visible. When
they passed the Scorpion and only just missed destruction from its
menacing fangs, fear entered into the boy's heart. His mother had
spoken truth. He was only partly a god, and he was very, very young.
In impotent horror he tugged at the reins to try to check the horses'
descent, then, forgetful of Apollo's warning, he smote them angrily.
But anger met anger, and the fury of the immortal steeds had scorn
for the wrath of a mortal boy. With a great toss of their mighty heads
they had torn the guiding reins from his grasp, and as he stood,
giddily swaying from side to side, Phaeton knew that the boon he had
craved from his father must in truth be death for him.

And, lo, it was a hideous death, for with eyes that were like flames
that burned his brain, the boy beheld the terrible havoc that his
pride had wrought. That blazing chariot of the Sun made the clouds
smoke, and dried up all the rivers and water-springs. Fire burst from
the mountain tops, great cities were destroyed. The beauty of the
earth was ravished, woods and meadows and all green and pleasant
places were laid waste. The harvests perished, the flocks and they who