Classic Myths | Page 2

THOR, WITH HIS RED-HOT HAMMER]

HOW THE HORSES OF THE SUN RAN AWAY
Greek
Phaeton was the child of the Sun-god, Apollo.
"Mother Clymene," said the boy one day, "I am going to visit my father's palace."
"It is well," she answered. "The land where the Sun rises is not far from this. Go and ask
a gift from him."
That night Phaeton bound his sandals more tightly, and, wrapping a thicker silken robe
about him, started for the land of Sunrise, sometimes called India by mankind.
Many nights and many days he traveled, but his sandals never wore out nor did his robe
make him too hot or too cold.
At last, as he climbed the highest mountain peak of all the earth, he saw the glittering
columns of his father's palace. As he came nearer he found that they were covered with
millions of precious stones and inlaid with gold. When he started to climb the numberless
stairs, the silver doors of the palace flew open, and he saw the wonderful ivory ceiling
and the walls of the long hall.
He was glad that the steps were many and he looked long at the pictures carved on the
walls by an immortal artist.
There were pictures of both land and sea. On the right was earth with its towns, forests,
and rivers, and the beings that live in each. On the left was the ocean with its mermaids
sporting among the waves, riding on the backs of fishes, or sitting on the rocks drying

their sea-green hair. Their faces were alike, yet not alike, as sisters ought to be.
Up, up the hundreds of steps he climbed, never wearied. On the ceiling of this marvelous
hall he could see carved the stars of heaven. On the silver doors were the twelve strange
beings of the sky, formed of stars; six on each door.
The last step was reached. Outside the sky was dark, but at the doorway Phaeton stopped,
for the light from his father was more than he could bear. There sat Apollo, dressed in
crimson, on a throne which glittered with diamonds. On his right hand and on his left
stood the Days, bright with hope; and the Months, hand in hand with the Days, seemed
listening to what the Years were whispering to them.
Phaeton saw there the four seasons. Spring, young and lovely, came first, her head
crowned with flowers. Next came Summer, with her robe of roses thrown loosely about
her and a garland of ripe wheat upon her head. Then came merry Autumn, his feet stained
with grape juice; and last, icy Winter, with frosty beard and hair, and Phaeton shivered as
he looked at him. Dazzled by the light, and startled to find himself in such a presence, he
stood still.
The Sun, seeing him with the eye that sees everything, asked:
"Why are you here?"
"Apollo, my father, grant me one request, that I may prove to mortals that you are my
father."
Apollo laid aside his dazzling crown of rays, clasped Phaeton in his arms and said:
"Brave son, ask what you will, the gift is yours."
Quicker than a flash from his father's crown came the question from Phaeton:
"Will you let me for one day drive your chariot?"
Foolish father, foolish son! Apollo shook his head three times in warning.
"I have spoken rashly. This one thing no mortal can achieve. Nor can any immortal save
myself hold in the horses that draw the fiery car of day. It is not honor, but death you ask.
Change your wish."
Phaeton answered:
"My mother taught me that my father always kept his promises."
"It is even so, rash boy. If you do not change, neither can I. Bring the chariot of the Sun."
The daring child stood beside the glorious car that was higher than his head. His eyes
flashed bright as the diamonds that studded the back of the golden chariot. The golden
axle gleamed through the silver spokes, for the chariot was made of naught but gold and

silver and precious stones.
Then Early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the eastern sky. The stars, answering
the signal of the Day Star, slowly passed from sight, followed by their marshal.
The Hours obeyed Apollo's orders, and, harnessing the horses, led out the wondrous
creatures and fastened them to the chariot.
Apollo bathed Phaeton's face with ointment, and taking up the crown of shining rays,
fastened it on the rash boy's head.
With a sigh, he said:
"My son, you will at least take my advice in one thing: spare the whip and hold tight the
lines. You will see the marks of the wheels where I have gone before, and they will guide.
Go not too