He fell like a leaf tossed down the wind, down, down, with one cry that overtook Daedalus far away.  When he returned, and sought high and low for the poor boy, he saw nothing but the bird-like feathers afloat on the water, and he knew that Icarus was drowned.

The nearest island he named Icaria, in memory of the child; but he, in heavy grief, went to the temple of Apollo in Sicily, and there hung up his wings as an offering.  Never again did he attempt to fly.

PHAETHON

By Josephine Preston Peabody

Once upon a time, the reckless whim of a lad came near to destroying the Earth and robbing the spheres of their wits.

There were two playmates, said to be of heavenly parentage.  One was Epaphus, who claimed Zeus as a father; and one was Phaethon, the earthly child of Phoebus Apollo (or Helios, as some name the sun-god).  One day they were boasting together, each of his own father, and Epaphus, angry at the other’s fine story, dared him to go prove his kinship with the Sun.

Full of rage and humiliation, Phaethon went to his mother, Clymene, where she sat with his young sisters, the Heliades.

“It is true, my child,” she said, “I swear it in the light of yonder Sun.  If you have any doubt, go to the land whence he rises at morning and ask of him any gift you will; he is your father, and he cannot refuse you.”

As soon as might be, Phaethon set out for the country of sunrise.  He journeyed by day and by night far into the east, till he came to the palace of the Sun.  It towered high as the clouds, glorious with gold and all manner of gems that looked like frozen fire, if that might be.  The mighty walls were wrought with images of earth and sea and sky.  Vulcan, the smith of the Gods, had made them in his workshop (for Mount AEtna is one of his forges, and he has the central fires of the earth to help him fashion gold and iron, as men do glass).  On the doors blazed the twelve signs of the Zodiac, in silver that shone like snow in the sunlight.  Phaethon was dazzled with the sight, but when he entered the palace hall he could hardly bear the radiance.

In one glimpse through his half-shut eyes, he beheld a glorious being, none other than Phoebus himself, seated upon a throne.  He was clothed in purple raiment, and round his head there shone a blinding light, that enveloped even his courtiers upon the right and upon the left,—­the Seasons with their emblems, Day, Month, Year, and the beautiful young Hours in a row.  In one glance of those all-seeing eyes, the sun-god knew his child; but in order to try him he asked the boy his errand.

“O my father,” stammered Phaethon, “if you are my father indeed”—­and then he took courage; for the god came down from his throne, put off the glorious halo that hurt mortal eyes, and embraced him tenderly.

“Indeed, thou art my son,” said he.  “Ask any gift of me, and it shall be thine; I call the Styx to witness.”