Kitap 2
They take from Maunger trimly dight: and to their heades doe tie
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Strong reyned bits: and to the Charyot doe them well appoint.
Then Phoebus did with heavenly salve his Phaetons heade annoint,
That scorching fire coulde nothing hurt: which done, upon his haire
He put the fresh and golden rayes himselfe was wont to weare.
And then as one whose heart misgave the sorrowes drawing fast,
With sorie sighes he thus bespake his retchlesse sonne at last:
(And if thou canst) at least yet this thy fathers lore obay:
Sonne, spare the whip, and reyne them hard, they run so swift away
As that thou shalt have much adoe their fleeing course to stay.
Directly through the Zones all five beware thou doe not ride,
A brode byway cut out askew that bendeth on the side
Contaynde within the bondes of three the midmost Zones doth lie:
Which from the grisely Northren beare, and Southren Pole doth flie.
Keepe on this way: my Charyot rakes thou plainely shalt espie
And to th'intent that heaven and earth may well the heate endure,
Drive neyther over high nor yet too lowe. For be thou sure,
And if thou mount above thy boundes, the starres thou burnest cleane.
Againe beneath thou burnst the Earth: most safetie is the meane.
And least perchaunce thou overmuch the right hand way should take,
And so misfortune should thee drive upon the writhen Snake,
Or else by taking overmuche upon the lefter hand
Unto the Aultar thou be driven that doth against it stand:
Indifferently betweene them both I wish thee for to ride.
The rest I put to fortunes will, who be thy friendly guide,
And better for thee than thy selfe as in this case provide.
Whiles that I prattle here with thee, behold the dankish night
Beyond all Spaine hir utmost bound is passed out of sight.
We may no lenger tariance make: my wonted light is cald,
The Morning with hir countnance cleare the darknesse hath appald.
Take raine in hand, or if thy minde by counsell altred bee,
Refuse to meddle with my Wayne: and while thou yet art free,
And doste at ease within my house in safegarde well remaine,
Of this thine unadvised wish not feeling yet the paine,
Let me alone with giving still the world his wonted light,
And thou thereof as heretofore enjoy the harmelesse sight.
Thus much in vaine: for Phaeton both yong in yeares and wit,
Into the Chariot lightly lept, and vauncing him in it
Was not a little proud that he the brydle gotten had.
He thankt his father whom it grievde to see his childe so mad.
