Nor to the distant south, nor stormy north. 
  The horses’ hoofs a beaten track will show,
  But neither mount too high nor sink too low,
  That no new fires or heaven or earth infest;
  Keep the mid-way, the middle way is best. 
  Nor, where in radiant folds the Serpent twines,
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  Direct your course, nor where the Altar shines. 
  Shun both extremes; the rest let Fortune guide,
  And better for thee than thyself provide! 
  See, while I speak the shades disperse away,
  Aurora gives the promise of a day;
  I’m called, nor can I make a longer stay. 
  Snatch up the reins; or still the attempt forsake,
  And not my chariot, but my counsel take,
  While yet securely on the earth you stand;
  Nor touch the horses with too rash a hand.
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  Let me alone to light the world, while you
  Enjoy those beams which you may safely view.’ 
  He spoke in vain:  the youth with active heat
  And sprightly vigour vaults into the seat;
  And joys to hold the reins, and fondly gives
  Those thanks his father with remorse receives. 
     Meanwhile the restless horses neighed aloud,
  Breathing out fire, and pawing where they stood. 
  Tethys, not knowing what had passed, gave way,
  And all the waste of heaven before them lay.
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  They spring together out, and swiftly bear
  The flying youth through clouds and yielding air;
  With wingy speed outstrip the eastern wind,
  And leave the breezes of the morn behind. 
  The youth was light, nor could he fill the seat,
  Or poise the chariot with its wonted weight: 
  But as at sea the unballast vessel rides,
  Cast to and fro, the sport of winds and tides;
  So in the bounding chariot tossed on high,
  The youth is hurried headlong through the sky.
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  Soon as the steeds perceive it, they forsake
  Their stated course, and leave the beaten track. 
  The youth was in a maze, nor did he know
  Which way to turn the reins, or where to go;
  Nor would the horses, had he known, obey. 
  Then the Seven Stars first felt Apollo’s ray
  And wished to dip in the forbidden sea. 
  The folded Serpent next the frozen pole,
  Stiff and benumbed before, began to roll,
  And raged with inward heat, and threatened war,
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  And shot a redder light from every star;
  Nay, and ’tis said, Bootes, too, that fain
  Thou wouldst have fled, though cumbered with thy wain. 
     The unhappy youth then, bending down his head,
  Saw earth and ocean far beneath him spread: 
  His colour changed, he startled at the sight,
  And his eyes darkened by too great a light. 
  Now could he wish the fiery steeds untried,
  His birth obscure, and his request denied: 
  Now would he Merops for his father own,
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  And quit his boasted kindred to the Sun. 
     So fares the pilot, when his ship is tossed