During these last words the headstrong youth mounted the chariot and took the reins from the hands of his sorrowful father. The neighing of the steeds filled the atmosphere. They champed their bits and stamped. When Phaëthon pulled the reins they flew with the chariot. They soon outran the swift winds, clove asunder the morning clouds, and the vast, immeasurable universe lay before Phaëthon’s gaze. The chariot swung from side to side as the load was too light. When the steeds noticed this, they took to wild flight and left the usual course. The youth was overcome by fear. How could he find the course again? Not once but many times he sought to free the tangled reins. Upward went the chariot. When Phaëthon looked upon the height of the sky, a panic seized him, his knees trembled, and all grew dark before his eye. Now he repented that he had not heeded his father’s warnings, but it was too late. He was hurled about like a dismasted vessel in raging waters. He knew not what to do. He had already traversed a great part of the sky, but endless was the expanse which still lay before him. In despair he looked ahead and behind. He still held the reins, but he no longer made any effort to direct the steeds. A great terror awaited him as he suddenly beheld frightful apparitions above him. Terrified by them, the steeds ran still farther from the course, dragging the swaying, cracking chariot after them. The elevated plains of earth took fire. Broad fissures appeared in the ground, the forest disappeared in a furious sea of flame, and a luminous dust arose from the meadows and harvest fields. Cities and their people were destroyed. Fiery clouds swept over places teeming with life shortly before. The mountains were masses of seething fire. Phaëthon, gazing about, saw nothing but flames. Higher and higher they rose, and at last the sun-chariot was surrounded by clouds of hot moisture. Phaëthon no longer knew where he was. Then, so says the myth, the terrified nymphs fled, mourning over their fountains and waters destroyed by fire. The earth became such a vast chasm that the glare of the fire was reflected in Tartarus and the gods of the underworld were terrified. The sea itself retreated from its shores, its bed rose, islands appeared where there had been none, fishes and seals lay dead upon the banks. The sea nymphs fled with Doris and Nereus to a cool grotto, where the air was so glowing that Poseidon had to plunge in water the arm with which he raised his trident to try and hurl Phaëthon down. When Zeus beheld what was happening he pitied the dying world. With a thunderbolt he killed the audacious charioteer. A lock of his hair, taking fire, floated down like a falling star. The terrible bolt frightened the steeds. The chariot broke and axles, spokes, and fragments of the wheels flew in all directions.