All Lydia rung; the wonderous rumor spread
Through every Phrygian town; the tale employ'd
The tongues of all mankind. The nymph was known,
Ere yet Amphion's nuptial bed she press'd,
To Niobé. She, when a virgin dwelt
In Lydian Sipylus. She still unmov'd,
Arachné's neighboring fate not heeded, still
Proudly refus'd before the gods to bend;
And spoke in haughty boasting. Much her pride
By favoring gifts was swol'n. Not the fine skill
Amphion practis'd; not the lofty birth
Each claim'd; not all their mighty kingdom's power,
So rais'd her soul (of all though justly proud)
As her bright offspring. Justly were she call'd
Most blest of mothers; but her bliss too great
Seem'd to herself, and caus'd a dread reverse.
Now Manto, sprung from old Tiresias, skill'd
In future fate, impell'd by power divine,
In every street with wild prophetic tongue
Exclaim'd;—“Ye Theban matrons, haste in crowds,
“Your incense offer, and your pious prayers,
“To great Latona, and the heavenly twins,
“Latona's offspring; all your temples bound
“With laurel garlands. This the goddess bids;
“Through me commands it.” All of Thebes obey,
And gird their foreheads with the order'd leaves;
The incense burn, and with the sacred flames
Their pious prayers ascend. Lo! 'midst a crowd
Of nymphs attendant, far conspicuous seen;
Comes Niobé, in gorgeous Phrygian robe,
Inwrought with gold, attir'd. Beauteous her form,
Beauteous, as rage permitted. Angry shook
Her graceful head; and angry shook the locks
That o'er each shoulder wav'd. Proudly she tower'd.
Her haughty eyes, round from her lofty stand
Wide darting, cry'd;—“What madness this to place
“Reported gods above the gods you see!
“Why to Latona's altars bend ye low,
“Nor incense burn before my power divine?
“My sire, was Tantalus: of mortals sole,
“Celestial feasts he shar'd. A Pleiäd nymph
“Me bore. My grandsire is the mighty king,
“Whose shoulders all the load of heaven sustain.
“Jove is my father's parent: him I boast
“As sire-in-law too. All the Phrygian towns
“Bend to my sway. The hall of Cadmus owns
“Me sovereign mistress. Thebes' high towering walls,
“Rais'd by my consort's lute; and all the crowd
“Who dwell inclos'd, his rule and mine obey.
“Where'er within my palace turn mine eyes,
“Treasures immense I view. Brightness divine
“I boast: to all seven blooming daughters add,
“And seven fair sons; through whom I soon expect,
“If Hymen favors, seven more sons to see,
“And seven more daughters. Need ye further seek
“Whence I have cause for boasting. Dare ye still
“Latona, from Titanian Cæus sprung,—
“The unknown Cæus,—she to whom all earth
“In bearing pangs the smallest space deny'd:—
“This wretch to my divinity prefer?
“Not heaven your goddess would receive; not earth;
“Not ocean: exil'd from the world, she weep'd,
“Till Delos sorrowing,—wanderer like herself,
“Exclaim'd;—thou dreary wanderest o'er the earth,
“I, o'er the main;—and sympathizing thus,
“A resting spot afforded. There become
“Of two the mother, only—can she vie
“With one whose womb, has sevenfold hers surpass'd?
“Blest am I. Who can slightly e'er arraign
“To happiness my claim? Blest will I still
“Continue. Who my bliss can ever doubt?
“Abundance guards its surety. Far beyond
“The power of fortune is my lot uprais'd:
“Snatch them in numbers from me, crowds more great
“Must still remain. My happy state contemns
“Even now, the threats of danger. Grant the power
“Of fate this nation of my womb to thin,—
“Of part depriv'd, impossible I shrink
“To poor Latona's two. How scant remov'd
“From mothers childless! Quit your rites;—quick haste
“And tear those garlands from your flowing hair.”
Aside the garlands thrown, and incomplete,
The rites relinquish'd, what the Thebans could
They gave: their whispering prayers the matron dame
Address'd. With ire the angry goddess flam'd,
And thus on Cynthus' lofty top bespoke
Her double offspring:—“O, my children! see,
“Your parent, proud your parent to be call'd,—
“To no celestial yielding, save the queen
“Of Jove supreme. Lo! doubted is my claim
“To rites divine; and from the altars, burnt
“To me from endless ages, driven, I go;
“Save by my children succour'd. Nor this grief
“Alone me irks, for Niobé me mocks!—
“Her daring crime increasing, proud she sets
“Her offspring far 'bove you. Me too she spurns,—
“To her in number yielding; childless calls
“My bed, and proves the impious stock which gave
“Her tongue first utterance.” More Latona felt
Prepar'd to utter; more beseechings bland
For her young offspring, when Apollo, cry'd:
“Enough, desist to plain;—delay is long
“Till vengeance.” Dian' join'd him in his ire.
Swift gliding down the sky, and veil'd in clouds,
On Cadmus' roof they lighted. Wide was spread,
A level plain, by constant hoofs well beat,
The city's walls adjoining; crowding wheels,
And coursers' feet the rolling dust upturn'd.
Here of Amphion's offspring daily some
Mount their fleet steeds; their trappings gaily press
Of Tyrian dye: heavy with gold, the rens
They guide. 'Mid these Ismenos, primal born
Of Niobé, as round the circling course,
His well-train'd steed he sped, and strenuous curb'd
His foaming mouth,—loudly “Ah, me!” exclaim'd,
As through his bosom deep the dart was driv'n:
Dropp'd from his dying hands the slacken'd reins;
Slowly, and sidelong from his courser's back
He tumbled. Sipylus, gave uncheck'd scope
To his, when through the empty air he heard,
The rattling quiver sound: thus speeding clouds
Beheld, the guider of the ruling helm,
A threatening tempest fearing, looses wide
His every sail to catch the lightest breeze.
Loose flow'd his reins. Th' inevitable dart
The flowing reins quick follow'd. Quivering shook,
Fixt in his upper neck, the naked steel,
Far through his throat protruding. Prone he fell
O'er his high courser's head; his smoking gore,
The ground defiling. Hapless Phœdimas,
And Tantalus, his grandsire's name who bore,
Their 'custom'd sport laborious ended, strove
With youthful vigor in the wrestling toil.
Now breast to breast they strain'd with nervous grasp,
When the swift arrow from the bended horn,
Both bodies pierc'd, as close both bodies join'd;
At once they groan'd; at once their limbs they threw,
With agonies convuls'd, prone on the earth;
At once their rolling eyes the light forsook;
At once their souls were yielded forth to air.
Alphenor saw, and smote his grieving breast;
Flew to their pallid limbs, and as he rais'd,
Their bodies, in the pious office fell:
For Phœbus drove his fate-wing'd arrow deep
Through what his heart inclos'd. Sudden withdrawn,
On the barb'd head the mangled lungs were stuck;
And high in air his soul gush'd forth in blood.
But beardless Damasichthon, by a wound
Not single fell, as those; struck where the leg
To form begins, and where the nervous ham
A yielding joint supplies. The deadly dart
To draw essaying, in his throat, full driven,
Up to the feather'd head, another came:
The sanguine flood expell'd it, gushing high,
Cutting the distant air. With outstretcht arms
Ilioneus, the last, besought in vain;
Exclaiming,—“spare me, spare me, all ye gods!”
Witless that all not join'd to cause his woe.
The god was touch'd with pity, touch'd too late,—
Already shot th' irrevocable dart:
Yet light the blow was given, and mild the wound
That pierc'd his heart, and sent his soul aloft.
The rumor'd ill; the mourning people's groans;
The servant's tears, soon made the mother know,
The sudden ruin: wondering first she stands,
To see so great heaven's power, then angry flames
Indignant, that such power they dare to use.
The sire Amphion, in his bosom plung'd
His sword, and ended life at once, and woe.
Heavens! how remov'd this Niobé, from her
Who drove so lately from Latona's fane,
The pious crowds; who march'd in lofty state,
Through every street of Thebes, an envy'd sight!
Now to be wept by even her bitterest foes.
Prostrate upon their gelid limbs she lies;
Now this, now that, her trembling kisses press;
Her livid arms high-stretching unto heaven,
Exclaims,—“Enjoy Latona, cruel dame,
“My sorrows; feed on all my wretched woes;
“Glut with my load of grief thy savage soul;
“Feast thy fell heart with seven funereal scenes;
“Triumph, victorious foe! conqueror, exult!
“Victorious! said I?—How? To wretched me,
“Still more are left, than joyful thou canst boast:
“Superior I 'midst all this loss remain.”
She spoke;—the twanging bowstring sounded loud!
Terrific noise,—save Niobé, to all:
She stood audacious, callous in her crime.
In mourning vesture clad, with tresses loose,
Around the funeral couches of the slain,
The weeping sisters stood. One strives to pluck
The deep-stuck arrow from her bowels,—falls,
And fainting dies; her brother's clay-cold corse,
Prest with her lips. Another's soothing words
Her hapless parent strive to cheer,—struck dumb,
She bends beneath an unseen wound; her words
Reach not her parent, till her life is fled.
This, vainly flying, falls: that drops in death
Upon her sister's body. One to hide
Attempts: another pale and trembling dies.
Six now lie breathless, each by vary'd wounds;
One sole remaining, whom the mother shields,
Wrapt in her vest; her body o'er her flung,
Exclaiming,—“leave me this, my youngest,—last,
“Least of my mighty numbers,—one alone!”
But while she prays, the damsel pray'd for dies.
Of all depriv'd, the solitary dame,
Amid the lifeless bodies of her sons,
Her daughters, and her spouse, by sorrows steel'd,
Sits harden'd: no light gale her tresses moves;
No blood her redden'd cheeks contain; her eyes
Motionless glare upon her mournful face;
Life quits the statue: even her tongue congeals,
Within her stony palate; vital floods
Cease in her veins to flow; her neck to bow
Resists; her arms to move in graceful guise;
Her feet to step; and even to stone are turn'd
Her inmost bowels. Still to weep she seems.
Wrapt in a furious whirlwind, distant far
Her natal soil receives her. There fixt high
On a hill's utmost summit, still she melts;
Still does the rigid marble flow in tears.
Now every Theban, male and female, all,
Dread the fierce anger of the powers of heaven;
And with redoubled fervor lowly bend,
And own the twin-producing goddess' power.
Then, as oft seen, they ancient tales recount,
Reminded by events of recent date.
Thus one relates.—“Long since some clowns, who till'd
“The fertile fields of Lycia, felt the ire
“Of this high goddess, whom they durst despise.
“Obscure the fact itself, for low the race
“Who suffer'd; yet most wonderous was the deed.
“Myself have seen the marsh; the lake have seen
“Fam'd for the prodigy. My aged sire,
“To toil unable on the lengthen'd road,
“Me thither sent; an herd of choicest beeves
“Thence to conduct; to my unpractis'd steps
“A guiding native of the land he gave.
“While we the pastures travers'd, lo! we found
“An ancient altar, 'midst a spacious lake
“Erected; black with sacrificing dust;
“With waving reeds surrounded. Here my guide
“Halted, and softly whisper'd,—bless me, power!
“And I, like softly whispering,—bless me!—cry'd.
“Then ask'd, if nymph, or fawn, or native god
“The altar own'd?—when thus my guide reply'd.
“No mountain god, O, youth! this altar claims,
“But her whom once imperial Juno's rage,
“Stern interdicted from firm earth's extent:
“Whom scarce the wandering Delos would receive,
“Ardent beseeching, when the buoyant isle
“Light floated. There at length, Latona, laid
“Betwixt a palm, and bright Minerva's tree,
“Spite of their fierce opposing step-dame's power,
“Her twins produc'd. Even hence, in child-bed driven,
“She fled from Juno; in her bosom bore,
“'Tis said, the twin-celestials. Now the sun
“With fervid rays, had scorch'd the arid meads,
“When faint with lengthen'd toil, the goddess gain'd
“The edge of Lycia's monster-breeding clime;
“Parch'd and exhausted, from the solar heat,
“And infants milking her exhausted breast.
“By chance a lake, far distant she espy'd,
“Deep in a vale's recess, of waters pure.
“There clowns the bulrush gather'd; there they pluck'd
“The shrubby osier, and the marsh-fond grass.
“Approach'd the goddess; on her knees low bent,
“The earth she press'd, and forward lean'd to drink
“The cooling liquid. This the rustic mob
“Forbade. When she to those who thus oppos'd,—
“Water withhold? Water whose use is free?
“Nature to all unsparing gives to take,
“Of light, of air, and of the flowing stream.
“I claim but public gifts: yet suppliant beg
“Those public gifts to share. Not here I come,
“My weary'd arms and limbs within the waves
“To lave: my thirst alone I wish to slake.
“Even now my speaking lips their moisture want;
“Scarce my parch'd throat, a passage to my words
“Can yield. As nectar were the limpid draught.
“Life with the water give me; for to me,
“Water is life; with water life I seek.
“Let these too move you, who their tender hands
“Stretch to your bosoms,—for by chance the babes
“Their little hands held forth. The goddess' words,
“Thus bland-beseeching, who could e'er withstand?
“Yet these persisted;—obstinate refus'd
“To grant her wish, and with opprobrious speech
“And threats revil'd her, should she there remain.
“Nor rested thus,—the lake with hands and feet
“Muddy they trouble; with malicious leaps
“They agitate the pool, and upward stir
“From the deep bottom clouds of slimy ooze.
“Anger her thirst diverted. Rage deny'd
“More supplication from th' indignant dame.
“Their threatening words, no more the goddess brook'd;
“But raising high to heaven her hands, she cry'd,—
“Be this your home for ever!—Gracious heard,
“Her prayer was granted. Now they joy to plunge,
“Beneath the waters; now they deep immerge
“Their bodies in the hollow fen; now raise
“Their heads, and skim the surface of the pool,
“Often they rest upon the margin's brink,
“And oft light-springing, in the cool lake plunge.
“Now still their rude contentious tongues they use,
“Still squabbling, lost to shame beneath the waves:
“Beneath the waves they still abusings strive
“To utter. Hoarsely still their voice is heard,
“Through their wide-bloated throats. Their railing words,
“Their jaws more wide dilate. Depriv'd of neck,
“Their head and back in junction seem to meet;
“Green shine their backs; their bellies, hugely swol'n
“Are white; and frogs they plunge within the pool.”
Thus as the man, the fate destructive told
Of Lycia's clowns, to mind another call'd
The satyr's fate, who vanquish'd in the strife
Of skill, on Pallas' pipe, Latona's son
Severely punish'd.—“Wherefore thus,”—he cries,
“Rent from myself? O, penitent I bow.
“The pipe,” he shrieks, “should not such rage provoke.”
Exclaiming thus, o'er his extremest limbs
Stript was his skin; he one continuous wound!
Blood flow'd from every part; the naked nerves
Bare started; and the trembling veins full throbb'd,
By skin uncover'd. Every beating part
Inward, the breast's translucent fibres plain
Display'd to sight. Him every forest fawn;
Each brother satyr; and each sylvan god;
And every nymph, with fam'd Olympus wept:
And every swain, the woolly flock who fed;
Or on the mountain watch'd the horned herd.
Wash'd by their falling tears, the fertile earth
Is soak'd,—absorbs them in her inmost veins;
Then form'd to water, spouts them high in air.
Rapid 'twixt banks declivitous, they seek
The ocean. Marsya, is the river call'd;
The clearest stream through Phrygia's land which flows.
Thus far the crowd;—and then lamenting turn
To present griefs:—Amphion's race extinct,
Unanimous they wail; but hated still
Remains the mother's pride. For her alone
Weep'd Pelops;—rent his garments, bare expos'd
His breast and shoulders lay, and fair display'd
The ivory joint. This shoulder at his birth
In fleshy substance, and carnation tinge,
Equall'd the right. When by his sire his limbs
Disjointed lay, the gods, 'tis said, quick join'd
The sever'd members: every fragment found,
Save what combin'd the neck and upper arm;
The part destroy'd, with ivory they replace;
And Pelops perfect from the gift became.
The neighbouring lords assemble;—every town
Their kings intreat condolence to bestow,
And all to Thebes repair. First Argos sends;
Sparta; Mycené; Calydon, not yet
By stern Diana hated; Corinth, fam'd
For beauteous brass; Orchomenus the fierce;
Messené fertile; Patræ; Pylos, rul'd
By Neleus; Trœzen, yet unus'd to own
The sway of Pittheus; Cleona the low;
And all those towns the two-sea'd isthmus holds;
And all those towns the isthmus views without.
Athens, incredible! was absent sole.
War all her energy demanded. Borne
O'er ocean, fierce barbarian troops, the walls
Mopsopian threaten'd. Thracian Tereus, these
With arms auxiliar routed; bright his name
Shone from the conquest. Him in riches great,
Mighty in power, and from the god-like Mars,
His lineage tracing, Procné's nuptial hand
Close to Pandion bound. Their marriage bed
Nor Grace, nor Hymen, nor the nuptial queen
Attended. Furies held the torches, snatch'd
From biers funereal. Furies spread the couch:
And all night long an owl, ill-omen'd bird,
Perch'd on the roof that crown'd the marriage dome.
Join'd with such omens, with such omens bore
Procné a son to Tereus. Wide through Thrace
Congratulations sound: glad thanks to heaven
The parents give, and hail the happy day
Which gave Pandion's daughter to the king;
And gave the pair a son. So ignorant still
Mankind of real happiness remain!