You ask a gift that may your parent tell, _110 Let these my fears your parentage reveal; And learn a father from a father's care: Look on my face; or if my heart lay bare, Could you but look, you'd read the father there. Choose out a gift from seas, or earth, or skies, For open to your wish all nature lies, Only decline this one unequal task, For 'tis a mischief, not a gift you ask; You ask a real mischief, Phaëton: Nay, hang not thus about my neck, my son: _120 I grant your wish, and Styx has heard my voice, Choose what you will, but make a wiser choice.' Thus did the god the unwary youth advise; But he still longs to travel through the skies, When the fond father (for in vain he pleads) At length to the Vulcanian chariot leads. A golden axle did the work uphold, Gold was the beam, the wheels were orbed with gold. The spokes in rows of silver pleased the sight, The seat with party-coloured gems was bright; _130 Apollo shined amid the glare of light. The youth with secret joy the work surveys; When now the morn disclosed her purple rays; The stars were fled; for Lucifer had chased The stars away, and fled himself at last. Soon as the father saw the rosy morn, And the moon shining with a blunter horn, He bid the nimble Hours without delay Bring forth the steeds; the nimble Hours obey: From their full racks the generous steeds retire, _140 Dropping ambrosial foams and snorting fire. Still anxious for his son, the god of day, To make him proof against the burning ray, His temples with celestial ointment wet, Of sovereign virtue to repel the heat; Then fixed the beaming circle on his head, And fetched a deep, foreboding sigh, and said, 'Take this at least, this last advice, my son: Keep a stiff rein, and move but gently on: The coursers of themselves will run too fast, _150 Your art must be to moderate their haste. Drive them not on directly through the skies, But where the Zodiac's winding circle lies, Along the midmost zone; but sally forth Nor to the distant south, nor stormy north. The horses' hoofs a beaten track will show, But neither mount too high nor sink too low, That no new fires or heaven or earth infest; Keep the mid-way, the middle way is best. Nor, where in radiant folds the Serpent twines, _160 Direct your course, nor where the Altar shines. Shun both extremes; the rest let Fortune guide, And better for thee than thyself provide! See, while I speak the shades disperse away, Aurora gives the promise of a day; I'm called, nor can I make a longer stay. Snatch up the reins; or still the attempt forsake, And not my chariot, but my counsel take, While yet securely on the earth you stand; Nor touch the horses with too rash a hand. _170 Let me alone to light the world, while you Enjoy those beams which you may safely view.' He spoke in vain: the youth with active heat