"The youth, transported, asks without delay,
To guide the Sun's bright chariot for a day;
The god repented of the oath he took,
For anguish thrice his radiant head he shook;
'My son,' says he, 'some other proof require—
Rash was my promise, rash was thy desire;
Not Jove himself, the ruler of the sky,
That hurls the three-forked thunder from above,
Dares try his strength; yet who as strong as Jove?
Besides, consider what impetuous force