Phaëton

Phaeton, Phaeton, mother's listless boy,
Asks his origin, annoys his ardent joy,
Whence comes his frame, whence the charm;
Asks his due, whence comes the strenght of arm?
His mother sighs, but soon she tells: 'My love,
Pale frame's a gift, that charm's from above,
Flex are your fingers, tendons like your sires;
His bound orbs, yours shall kindle fires.'
For this dances Phaeton, as mother's words he hears,
And soon clambers up, leaves mother to her fears.
Up above Phaeton, forth brings fool's desire,
Harries father sun, his divine sourceless sire,
Sleeplessly argues, bothers long aloud,
Peeks to the heaven, he passes a gate of cloud;
Circles, circles; soon he runs to the matter:
'Am I not unhappy heir, beget by heedless father,
He won't give me chariot, locks away the steed,
Like a thief, come night, he would hide the deed,
And not let a proper son, with proper pride,
Follow adoring suit, follow his fiery ride;
So obstinate is father's heart, it looks away,
When his son trails the fleet feet of day.'
The fickle father now, looks up and down,
His fingers tremble, unsure ease his crown.
Long silence follows, but soon he claims:
'Beautiful son, my foolish heart a healthy mind
Keeps in check, holds in breast confined;
My steed that nightly tours the stars,
For you is caged, for you beats the prison-bars.'
But obstinate are boys too, boastfully bellow,
And sires' hearts grow weary, their minds mellow;
Hard assaults Phaeton, sundry arguments does raise,
Till father sighs, no longer averts his eyes:
'Phaeton, Phaeton, foolish son; my heart is rent,
Let me soundly sleep, father's will is bent,
Tomorrow younger hands shall raise the sun,
Fool's feet shall kick the steed, reins hold my son.'
Content Phaeton now retires to his mother's keep,
Callow son, he now lets his father sleep.
Soon the day is here, yet morn is dark,
When cock crows, now Phaeton likes to embark;
The unsure father, he but anoints his son's head,
Strange oils onto Phaeton's crown he'll spread,
To keep the flame away, let a star flicker past,
Phaeton's head will remain same he saw it last.
And now's the time of dawn, Phaton kicks the steed,
With smoking boot; now horses onwards lead;
Step by step, now hoofs of horses pound;
Step by step, now recedes the blurring ground;
Past flies the tallest tower, keep of mothers will,
Its windows pierce no light, mother worries still.
Step by step they go, through an airy realm;
Step by step, greedy Phaeton grips the helm;
Past palatial clouds, past majestic rocks they go,
Now above the milky dome, cloud-archs leave below,
Past titanic peaks they go; below in the scape of land,
Phaeton sees how the divine map is planned;
Sees the race of men, how they fill the earth to its brim,
And above, how flows the fine hair of seraphim!
They fly past the last could; a sizzling, broiling wisp;
Climb past an alpine range, through a mountain mist;
Now climb the sky, clamber a highway trail,
Whence soon sounds father's worrying wail;
Yet Phaeton climbs higher, past the peaks and on,
Fathers voice is dim, and soon his sound is gone.
The skies open up, and there below he sees,
How all father's kingdom sleeps in peace;
The sparkling orbs that here spiral and orbit,
In flaming course through skies they flit;
Below thus opens the cloudy map, Jove's atlas,
He sees through, like a child a globe of glass;
And yet above, some giant ball is whirling round,
Like a titan's feet it's flailing about;
Dazzled Phaeton, now bereft is his grip of force;
Weaker hand now grab the rein, senses the horse;
And buck and romp! now rages and riots the cart!
Till wrong way haste the steeds, from right course apart!
And callow Phaeton, with horror sees the home,
Flicker and blink, as wherever do horses roam,
And the blue orb, it grows cold in distant sight.
The fickle sun! Flees to heinous heights,
And there stops. In distance is Phaeton's peace,
As their mad race the steeds now cease.
Now flaming, now fleeing, the reckless star of day,
In silence glides, so far from the familiar way;
Phaeton gasps for air, sweeps his sweaty brow,
And checks up above, checks down and below,
How so far and distant, the path of day is past;
Yet checks again, how the earth is moving fast!
Now down from the sky and down from the space,
Down, down; Phaeton plunges down from grace,
And the orbs flit by, now flash in lines of speed;
That dome of milk, it shatters below the flaming steed;
Step by step, their fiery diamond-hoof,
Step by step, it pierces through the cloudy roof!
Soon would burst the continents five, in heat
Of sun they blaze; and Jove in his Olympian seat,
Wakes from a dream, from his window glances out,
Shakes and roars, notes a rabble rousing rout,
And how so wails the earth, below a falling flame.
That the king from his seat, would decree a word of blame.
Mournful and with sorrow, he goes to his labour,
A word of blame, of shame sends to his neighbour,
Then his fingers flexes, a violent bolt he throws,
Through a flaming chariot, past Phaeton it goes.
Axes break and clatter, the aisle now is broke;
The flight of day is past, it ends in fury's stroke.
The steeds to their stable flee, their reins undone,
Driverless the chariot drops, and down plummets Phaeton.