An Ultimate source for Learning English

Part II

But none of all this wise talk meant anything to the boy and Apollo who had sworn the irrevocable oath, was obliged to fulfill his promise. The hour had already come when the sun usually began his daily journey. Apollo quickly anointed his son with a cooling essence to preserve him from the burning sunbeams, gave him the necessary directions for his journey, and repeatedly and anxiously cautioned him to watch his steeds with the utmost care. The youth, who had listened impatiently to cautions and directions, then sprang into the seat carried by the steeds which Zeus himself could not master, and dashed out of eastern palace.
For an hour or two Phaeton bore in mind his father's principal injunctions, and all went well; but at length position, he became very reckless, drove faster and falter, and soon lost his way.

In finding it again he drove so close to earth, all the plants shriveled up, the fountains and rivers were dried and the smoke began to rise from the blackened earth, and even the people of land over which he was passing were burned black. Terrified at what he had done, Phaeton whipped up his steeds, and drove so far away, that all the vegetation which had survived the intense heat came to an untimely end on account of sudden cold. Phaeton was puzzled and wanted nothing except to have this torment and terror ended. He would have welcomed death Mother Earth, too, could bear no more. She uttered a great cry which reached up to the gods. Looking from Olympus, they saw that they must act quickly if the world was to be saved. Zeus seized his thunderbolt and hurled it at the rash, repentant driver, Phaeton. It struck him dead and shattered the chariot.

Phaeton fell from the chariot to the earth, in the mysterious river, Erdanus, which no mortal eyes have ever seen. The tidings of his death reached poor Clymene, who mourned her only son, and refused to be comforted; while the Heliades, Phaeton sister's, three in number, spent their days by the river side, shedding tears, until the gods, in pity transformed them into poplar trees, and their tears into amber, which substance was supposed by the ancient to flow from the poplar trees like teardrops. Phaeton's intimate friend, Cycnus, piously collected his charred remains, and gave them an honorable burial. In his grief he continually hunted the scene of his friend's death, and repeatedly plunged into the river, in the hope of finding some more scattered fragments, until the gods changed him into swan; which bird is ever sailing mournfully, and frequently plunging his head into the water to continue his search