The Sons Taunted

Now the goddess in linen robes is worshipped by a most famous crowd. To her, Epaphus, born at last of the great seed of Jove, is believed to be son, and through the cities he holds temples joined to his mother. He had one equal to him in spirit and in years: Phaethon, son of the Sun, who once, while he was speaking great things, and would not yield, proud of Phoebus his father, the son of Inachus could not endure; and he said: "Madman, do you believe all things of your mother, and are you swollen with the false image of a father?" Phaethon blushed, and repressed his anger in shame, and carried the insults of Epaphus to his mother Clymene.

"The more it may grieve you, mother," he said, "that I, your child — I, the fierce one — was silent! It shames me that these reproaches could be spoken, and could not be refuted. But you — if only I am created of heavenly stock — bring forth the proof of so great a birth, and claim me for heaven!" He spoke, and threw his arms about his mother's neck, and begged her, by his own head and the head of Merops, and by the wedding-torches of his sisters, to give him signs of his true parent. Clymene, moved — uncertain whether she was moved more by the prayers of Phaethon or by anger at the taunt spoken, moved by both — stretched her arms to the sky, and, looking to the lights of the sun, said: "By this radiance, marked with flashing rays, I swear to you, my son — the light which hears and sees us both: that which you look upon, that which governs the world, by the Sun are you begotten. If I speak falsely, let him himself refuse to be seen by me, and let that light be the last my eyes shall see!

"Nor is the labor long, to know your father's house. Where he rises, his dwelling borders our lands: if your spirit can bear it, go, and ask him yourself!" At once, glad after such words of his mother, Phaethon sprang forth, and conceived the heavens in his mind, and crossed his own Ethiopians and the Indians set beneath the starry fires, and came, eager, to the home of his father.

Now the goddess in linen robes is worshipped by a great crowd. Epaphus, born at last from the great seed of Jove, is believed to be his son, and he holds temples joined to his mother in city after city. He had one equal to him in spirit and in years: Phaethon, son of the Sun. Once Phaethon was talking big — speaking great things, refusing to give way, proud of Phoebus his father. Epaphus, the son of Inachus, could not stand it, and said: "Fool. You believe everything your mother tells you, and you are puffed up with a false idea of a father." Phaethon blushed, forced his anger down in shame, and took Epaphus's insults home to his mother Clymene.

"The more it hurts you, mother — I kept silent, I, your child, I, the fierce one! I am ashamed these insults were said, and that I could not answer them. But you: if I really am born of heavenly stock, give me the proof of so great a birth, and claim me for heaven!" He threw his arms around his mother's neck, and begged her, by his own head and the head of Merops, and by the wedding-torches of his sisters, to give him signs of his true father. Clymene, moved — uncertain whether she was moved more by Phaethon's prayers or by anger at the taunt, moved by both — stretched her arms to the sky, looked at the sun's light, and said: "I swear to you, my son, by that radiance marked with flashing rays — the light that hears and sees us both: the thing you are looking at, the thing that governs the world, the Sun is your father. If I lie, let him refuse to be seen by me, and let that light be the last my eyes ever see!

"And it is not hard to see your father's home. Where he rises, his house borders our lands. If your spirit can bear it, go and ask him yourself!" At once Phaethon leapt away, glad at his mother's words. He pictured the heavens in his mind, crossed his own Ethiopians and the Indians living under the starry fires, and came, eager, to his father's house.