Ran uncontrolled where'er their fury drove; Rushed on the stars, and through a pathless way Of unknown regions hurried on the day. And now above, and now below they flew, And near the earth the burning chariot drew. _240 The clouds disperse in fumes, the wondering Moon Beholds her brother's steeds beneath her own; The highlands smoke, cleft by the piercing rays, Or, clad with woods, in their own fuel blaze. Next o'er the plains, where ripened harvests grow, The running conflagration spreads below. But these are trivial ills; whole cities burn, And peopled kingdoms into ashes turn. The mountains kindle as the car draws near, Athos and Tmolus red with fires appear; _250 Oeagrian Hæmus (then a single name) And virgin Helicon increase the flame; Taurus and Oete glare amid the sky, And Ida, spite of all her fountains, dry. Eryx, and Othrys, and Cithgeron, glow; And Rhodope, no longer clothed in snow; High Pindus, Mimas, and Parnassus sweat, And Ætna rages with redoubled heat. Even Scythia, through her hoary regions warmed, In vain with all her native frost was armed. _260 Covered with flames, the towering Apennine, And Caucasus, and proud Olympus, shine; And, where the long extended Alps aspire, Now stands a huge, continued range of fire. The astonished youth, where'er his eyes could turn, Beheld the universe around him burn: The world was in a blaze; nor could he bear The sultry vapours and the scorching air, Which from below as from a furnace flowed, And now the axle-tree beneath him glowed: _270 Lost in the whirling clouds, that round him broke, And white with ashes, hovering in the smoke, He flew where'er the horses drove, nor knew Whither the horses drove, or where he flew. 'Twas then, they say, the swarthy Moor begun To change his hue, and blacken in the sun. Then Libya first, of all her moisture drained, Became a barren waste, a wild of sand. The water-nymphs lament their empty urns, Boeotia, robbed of silver Dirce, mourns; _280 Corinth, Pyrene's wasted spring bewails, And Argos grieves whilst Aniymone fails. The floods are drained from every distant coast, Even Tanaïs, though fixed in ice, was lost. Enraged Caicus and Lycormas roar, And Xanthus, fated to be burned once more. The famed Meeander, that unwearied strays Through mazy windings, smokes in every maze. From his loved Babylon Euphrates flies; The big-swoln Ganges and the Danube rise _290 In thickening fumes, and darken half the skies. In flames Ismenos and the Phasis rolled, And Tagus floating in his melted gold. The swans, that on Cayster often tried Their tuneful songs, now sung their last, and died. The frighted Nile ran off, and under-ground Concealed his head, nor can it yet be found: His seven divided currents all are dry, And where they rolled seven gaping trenches lie. No more the Rhine or Rhone their course maintain, _300