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Updated: June 25, 2025
Melitta opened the gate and admitted a youth splendidly apparelled, and with fair curling hair. It was Bartja, and Sappho was so lost in wonder at his beauty, and the Persian dress, to her so strange, that she remained motionless in her hiding-place, her eyes fixed on his face. Just so she had pictured to herself Apollo with the beautiful locks, guiding the sun-chariot.
Oh, never think that this little symphonic poem recounts the history of brilliant youth and its sun-chariot, the runaway steeds and the bleeding shattered frame! The "Phaeton" of whom Saint-Saëns sings is not the arrogant son of Phoebus. Whatever the composer may protest, it is the low, open-wheeled carriage that he is describing.
Melitta opened the gate and admitted a youth splendidly apparelled, and with fair curling hair. It was Bartja, and Sappho was so lost in wonder at his beauty, and the Persian dress, to her so strange, that she remained motionless in her hiding-place, her eyes fixed on his face. Just so she had pictured to herself Apollo with the beautiful locks, guiding the sun-chariot.
Melitta opened the gate and admitted a youth splendidly apparelled, and with fair curling hair. It was Bartja, and Sappho was so lost in wonder at his beauty, and the Persian dress, to her so strange, that she remained motionless in her hiding-place, her eyes fixed on his face. Just so she had pictured to herself Apollo with the beautiful locks, guiding the sun-chariot.
It did not take Phaethon long to decide he had made up his mind on the way; and his words fairly tumbled over each other as he cried eagerly: "Then I'll drive the sun-chariot for a day!" Apollo was horrified, for he knew that he alone of the gods could manage the fiery steeds; and if great Jupiter himself could not do it, what would happen if they were placed in the power of this slight boy?
Stern blessed her mentally with special pride and confidence in her mercury equalizing balances. Proud of his machine and of his skill, superb like Phaeton whirling the sun-chariot across the heavens, he gave her more and still more speed. Below nothing, nothing save vapors, with here and there an open space where showed the strange dull purple of the abyss.
The general name for a two-wheeled carriage of this sort used to be the phaeton, and this was not taken from any person, but from the sun-chariot in which, according to the old Greek story, the son of Helios rode to destruction when he had roused the anger of the great Greek god, Zeus. The names of old Greeks and Romans have given us many words.
There was once a Nymph named Clytie, who gazed ever at Apollo as he drove his sun-chariot through the heavens. She watched him as he rose in the east attended by the rosy-fingered Dawn and the dancing Hours. She gazed as he ascended the heavens, urging his steeds still higher in the fierce heat of the noonday.
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