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| THERE once dwelt in Olympus some notable oddities, | |
| For their wild singularities call’d Gods and Goddesses.— | |
| But one in particular beat ’em all hollow, | |
| Whose name, style and title was Phœbus Apollo. | |
| Now Phœb. was a genius—his hand he could turn | 5 |
| To anything, everything genius can learn: | |
| Bright, sensible, graceful, cute, spirited, handy, | |
| Well bred, well behaved—a celestial Dandy! | |
| An eloquent god, though he did n’t say much; | |
| But he drew a long bow, spoke Greek, Latin and Dutch; | 10 |
| A doctor, a poet, a soarer, a diver, | |
| And of horses in harness an excellent driver. | |
| He would tackle his steeds to the wheels of the sun, | |
| And he drove up the east every morning, but one; | |
| When young Phæton begg’d of his daddy at five, | 15 |
| To stay with Aurora a day, and he’d drive. | |
| So good natured Phœbus gave Phaey the seat, | |
| With his mittens, change, waybill, and stage horn complete; | |
| To the breeze of the morning he shook his bright locks, | |
| Blew the lamps of the night out, and mounted the box. | 20 |
| The crack of his whip, like the breaking of day, | |
| Warm’d the wax in the ears of the leaders, and they | |
| With a snort, like the fog of the morning, clear’d out | |
| For the west, as young Phaey meant to get there about | |
| Two hours before sunset. | 25 |
| He look’d at his “turnip,” | |
| And to make the delay of the old line concern up, | |
| He gave ’em the reins; and from Aries to Cancer, | |
| The style of his drive on the road seem’d to answer; | |
| But at Leo, the ears of the near wheel-horse prick’d, | 30 |
| And at Virgo the heels of the off leader kick’d; | |
| Over Libra the whiffle-tree broke in the middle, | |
| And the traces snapp’d short, like the strings of a fiddle. | |
| One wheel struck near Scorpio, who gave it a roll, | |
| And sent it to buzz, like a top, round the pole; | 35 |
| While the other whizz’d back with its linchpin and hub, | |
| Or, more learnedly speaking, its nucleus or nub; | |
| And, whether in earnest, or whether in fun, | |
| He carried away a few locks of the sun. | |
| The state of poor Phaeton’s coach was a blue one, | 40 |
| And Jupiter order’d Apollo a new one; | |
| But our driver felt rather too proud to say “Whoa,” | |
| Letting horses, and harness, and everything go | |
| At their terrified pleasure abroad; and the muse | |
| Says, they cut to this day just what capers they choose; | 45 |
| That the eyes of the chargers as meteors shine forth; | |
| That their manes stream along in the lights of the north; | |
| That the wheels which are missing are comets, that run | |
| As fast as they did when they carried the sun; | |
| And still pushing forward, though never arriving, | 50 |
| Think the west is before them, and Phaeton driving. | |
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