---
title: "Metamorphoses"
author: "Ovid"
translator: "Brookes More"
title_ru: "Метаморфозы"
author_ru: "Овидий"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 11 of 30
url: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/11/
cite: "Ovid, tr. Brookes More, Metamorphoses, section 11. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/11/"
---

# Metamorphoses

*Ovid, tr. Brookes More*

Russian: Метаморфозы, Овидий

Bodies changed into new forms, from the creation of the world to the deification of Julius Caesar: Daphne, Narcissus, Pyramus and Thisbe, Icarus, Orpheus.

> Latin: ed. Hugo Magnus, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-latinLit, phi0959.phi006, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: Brookes More, from the Perseus Digital Library (phi0959.phi006.perseus-eng3). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (line numbers), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## 11. Book VI · lines 1–381

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/11/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/11/#p-N

[¶0] All this Minerva heard; and she approved
their songs and their resentment; but her heart
was brooding thus, “It is an easy thing
to praise another, I should do as they:
no creature of the earth should ever slight
the majesty that dwells in me,—without
just retribution.”—So her thought was turned
upon the fortune of Arachne — proud,
who would not ever yield to her the praise
won by the art of deftly weaving wool,
a girl who had not fame for place of birth,
nor fame for birth, but only fame for skill!
For it was well known that her father dwelt
in Colophon; where, at his humble trade,
he dyed in Phocean purples, fleecy wool.
Her mother, also of the lower class,
had died. Arachne in a mountain town
by skill had grown so famous in the Land
of Lydia, that unnumbered curious nymphs
eager to witness her dexterity,
deserted the lush vineyards of Timolus;
or even left the cool and flowing streams
of bright Pactolus, to admire the cloth,
or to observe her deftly spinning wool.
So graceful was her motion then,—if she
was twisting the coarse wool in little balls,
or if she teased it with her finger-tips,
or if she softened the fine fleece, drawn forth
in misty films, or if she twirled the smooth
round spindle with her energetic thumb,
or if with needle she embroidered cloth;—
in all her motions one might well perceive
how much Minerva had instructed her:
but this she ever would deny, displeased
to share her fame; and said, “Let her contend
in art with me; and if her skill prevails,
I then will forfeit all!”
Minerva heard,
and came to her, disguised with long grey hair,
and with a staff to steady her weak limbs.
She seemed a feeble woman, very old,
and quavered as she said, “Old age is not
the cause of every ill; experience comes
with lengthened years; and, therefore, you should not
despise my words. It is no harm in you
to long for praise of mortals, when
your nimble hands are spinning the soft wool,—
but you should not deny Minerva's art—
and you should pray that she may pardon you,
for she will grant you pardon if you ask.”
Arachne, scowling with an evil face.
Looked at the goddess, as she dropped her thread.
She hardly could restrain her threatening hand,
and, trembling in her anger, she replied
to you, disguised Minerva:
“Silly fool,—
worn out and witless in your palsied age,
a great age is your great misfortune!— Let
your daughter and your son's wife—if the Gods
have blessed you—let them profit by your words;
within myself, my knowledge is contained
sufficient; you need not believe that your
advice does any good; for I am quite
unchanged in my opinion. Get you gone,—
advise your goddess to come here herself,
and not avoid the contest!”
Instantly,
the goddess said, “Minerva comes to you!”
And with those brief words, put aside the shape
of the old woman, and revealed herself,
Minerva, goddess.
All the other Nymphs
and matrons of Mygdonia worshiped her;
but not Arachne, who defiant stood;—
although at first she flushed up—then went pale—
then blushed again, reluctant.—So, at first,
the sky suffuses, as Aurora moves,
and, quickly when the glorious sun comes up,
pales into white.
She even rushed upon
her own destruction, for she would not give
from her desire to gain the victory.
Nor did the daughter of almighty Jove
decline: disdaining to delay with words,
she hesitated not.
And both, at once,
selected their positions, stretched their webs
with finest warp, and separated warp with sley.
The woof was next inserted in the web
by means of the sharp shuttles, which
their nimble fingers pushed along, so drawn
within the warp, and so the teeth notched in
the moving sley might strike them.—Both, in haste,
girded their garments to their breasts and moved
their skilful arms, beguiling their fatigue
in eager action.
Myriad tints appeared
besides the Tyrian purple—royal dye,
extracted in brass vessels.—As the bow,
that spans new glory in the curving sky,
its glittering rays reflected in the rain,
spreads out a multitude of blended tints,
in scintillating beauty to the sight
of all who gaze upon it; — so the threads,
inwoven, mingled in a thousand tints,
harmonious and contrasting; shot with gold:
and there, depicted in those shining webs,
were shown the histories of ancient days:—
Minerva worked the Athenian Hill of Mars,
where ancient Cecrops built his citadel,
and showed the old contention for the name
it should be given.—Twelve celestial Gods
surrounded Jupiter, on lofty thrones;
and all their features were so nicely drawn,
that each could be distinguished.—Jupiter
appeared as monarch of those judging Gods.
There Neptune, guardian of the sea, was shown
contending with Minerva. As he struck
the Rock with his long trident, a wild horse
sprang forth which he bequeathed to man. He claimed
his right to name the city for that gift.
And then she wove a portrait of herself,
bearing a shield, and in her hand a lance,
sharp-pointed, and a helmet on her head—
her breast well-guarded by her Aegis: there
she struck her spear into the fertile earth,
from which a branch of olive seemed to sprout,
pale with new clustered fruits.—And those twelve Gods,
appeared to judge, that olive as a gift
surpassed the horse which Neptune gave to man.
And, so Arachne, rival of her fame,
might learn the folly of her mad attempt,
from the great deeds of ancient histories,
and what award presumption must expect,
Minerva wove four corners with life scenes
of contest, brightly colored, but of size
diminutive.

> Latin: Praebuerat dictis Tritonia talibus aures
carminaque Aonidum iustamque probaverat iram.
Tum secum “laudare parum est; laudemur et ipsae
numina nec sperni sine poena nostra sinamus”
Maeoniaeque animum fatis intendit Arachnes,
quam sibi lanificae non cedere laudibus artis
audierat. Non illa loco neque origine gentis
clara, sed arte fuit. Pater huic Colophonius Idmon
Phocaico bibulas tingebat murice lanas.
Occiderat mater; sed et haec de plebe suoque
aequa viro fuerat. Lydas tamen illa per urbes
quaesierat studio nomen memorabile, quamvis
orta domo parva parvis habitabat Hypaepis.
Huius ut adspicerent opus admirabile, saepe
deseruere sui nymphae vineta Timoli,
deseruere suas nymphae Pactolides undas.
Nec factas solum vestes spectare iuvabat;
tum quoque, cum fierent: tantus decor adfuit arti.
Sive rudem primos lanam glomerabat in orbes,
seu digitis subigebat opus repetitaque longo
vellera mollibat nebulas aequantia tractu,
sive levi teretem versabat pollice fusum,
seu pingebat acu, scires a Pallade doctam.
Quod tamen ipsa negat, tantaque offensa magistra
“certet” ait “mecum: nihil est, quod victa recusem.”
Pallas anum simulat falsosque in tempora canos
addit et infirmos, baculo quos sustinet, artus.
Tum sic orsa loqui: “Non omnia grandior aetas,
quae fugiamus, habet: seris venit usus ab annis.
Consilium ne sperne meum. Tibi fama petatur
inter mortales faciendae maxima lanae:
cede deae veniamque tuis, temeraria, dictis
supplice voce roga: veniam dabit illa roganti.”
Adspicit hanc torvis inceptaque fila relinquit,
vixque manum retinens confessaque vultibus iram
talibus obscuram resecuta est Pallada dictis:
“Mentis inops longaque venis confecta senecta.
Et nimium vixisse diu nocet. Audiat istas,
siqua tibi nurus est, siqua est tibi filia, voces.
Consilii satis est in me mihi. Neve monendo
profecisse putes, eadem est sententia nobis.
Cur non ipsa venit? cur haec certamina vitat?”
Tum dea “venit” ait, formamque removit anilem
Palladaque exhibuit. Venerantur numina nymphae
Mygdonidesque nurus: sola est non territa virgo.
Sed tamen erubuit, subitusque invita notavit
ora rubor rursusque evanuit, ut solet aer
purpureus fieri, cum primum aurora movetur,
et breve post tempus candescere solis ab ortu.
Perstat in incepto stolidaeque cupidine palmae
in sua fata ruit: neque enim Iove nata recusat,
nec monet ulterius, nec iam certamina differt.
Haud mora, constituunt diversis partibus ambae
et gracili geminas intendunt stamine telas
(tela iugo iuncta est, stamen secernit harundo);
inseritur medium radiis subtemen acutis,
quod digiti expediunt, atque inter stamina ductum
percusso paviunt insecti pectine dentes.
Utraque festinant cinctaeque ad pectora vestes
bracchia docta movent, studio fallente laborem.
Illic et Tyrium quae purpura sensit aenum
texitur et tenues parvi discriminis umbrae,
qualis ab imbre solet percussis solibus arcus
inficere ingenti longum curvamine caelum:
in quo diversi niteant cum mille colores,
transitus ipse tamen spectantia lumina fallit;
usque adeo quod tangit idem est, tamen ultima distant.
Illic et lentum filis inmittitur aurum
et vetus in tela deducitur argumentum.
Cecropia Pallas scopulum Mavortis in arce
pingit et antiquam de terrae nomine litem.
Bis sex caelestes medio Iove sedibus altis
augusta gravitate sedent. Sua quemque deorum
inscribit facies: Iovis est regalis imago.
Stare deum pelagi longoque ferire tridente
aspera saxa facit, medioque e vulnere saxi
exsiluisse fretum, quo pignore vindicet urbem;
at sibi dat clipeum, dat acutae cuspidis hastam,
dat galeam capiti, defenditur aegide pectus,
percussamque sua simulat de cuspide terram
edere cum bacis fetum canentis olivae
mirarique deos: operis Victoria finis.
Ut tamen exemplis intellegat aemula laudis,
quod pretium speret pro tam furialibus ausis,
quattuor in partes certamina quattuor addit,
clara colore suo, brevibus distincta sigillis.

[¶1] In one of these was shown
the snow-clad mountains, Rhodope,
and Haemus, which for punishment were changed
from human beings to those rigid forms,
when they aspired to rival the high Gods.
And in another corner she described
that Pygmy, whom the angry Juno changed
from queen-ship to a crane; because she thought
herself an equal of the living Gods,
she was commanded to wage cruel wars
upon her former subjects. In the third,
she wove the story of Antigone,
who dared compare herself to Juno, queen
of Jupiter, and showed her as she was
transformed into a silly chattering stork,
that praised her beauty, with her ugly beak.—
Despite the powers of Ilion and her sire
Laomedon, her shoulders fledged white wings.
And so, the third part finished, there was left
one corner, where Minerva deftly worked
the story of the father, Cinyras;—
as he was weeping on the temple steps,
which once had been his daughter's living limbs.
And she adorned the border with designs
of peaceful olive—her devoted tree—
which having shown, she made an end of work.
Arachne, of Maeonia, wove, at first
the story of Europa, as the bull
deceived her, and so perfect was her art,
it seemed a real bull in real waves.
Europa seemed to look back towards the land
which she had left; and call in her alarm
to her companions—and as if she feared
the touch of dashing waters, to draw up
her timid feet, while she was sitting on
the bull's back.
And she wove Asteria seized
by the assaulting eagle; and beneath the swan's
white wings showed Leda lying by the stream:
and showed Jove dancing as a Satyr, when
he sought the beautiful Antiope,
to whom was given twins; and how he seemed
Amphitryon when he deceived Alcmena;
and how he courted lovely Danae
luring her as a gleaming shower of gold;
and poor Aegina, hidden in his flame,
jove as a shepherd with Mnemosyne;
and beautiful Proserpina, involved
by him, apparent as a spotted snake.
And in her web, Arachne wove the scenes
of Neptune:—who was shown first as a bull,
when he was deep in love with virgin Arne
then as Enipeus when the giant twins,
Aloidae, were begot; and as the ram
that gambolled with Bisaltis; as a horse
loved by the fruitful Ceres, golden haired,
all-bounteous mother of the yellow grain;
and as the bird that hovered round snake-haired
Medusa, mother of the winged horse;
and as the dolphin, sporting with the Nymph,
Melantho.—All of these were woven true
to life, in proper shades.
And there she showed
Apollo, when disguised in various forms:
as when he seemed a rustic; and as when
he wore hawk-wings, and then the tawny skin
of a great lion; and once more when he
deluded Isse, as a shepherd lad.
And there was Bacchus, when he was disguised
as a large cluster of fictitious grapes;
deluding by that wile the beautiful
Erigone;—and Saturn, as a steed,
begetter of the dual-natured Chiron.
And then Arachne, to complete her work,
wove all around the web a patterned edge
of interlacing flowers and ivy leaves.
Minerva could not find a fleck or flaw—
even Envy can not censure perfect art—
enraged because Arachne had such skill
she ripped the web, and ruined all the scenes
that showed those wicked actions of the Gods;
and with her boxwood shuttle in her hand,
struck the unhappy mortal on her head,—
struck sharply thrice, and even once again.
Arachne's spirit, deigning not to brook
such insult, brooded on it, till she tied
a cord around her neck, and hung herself.
Minerva, moved to pity at the sight,
sustained and saved her from that bitter death;
but, angry still, pronounced another doom:
“Although I grant you life, most wicked one,
your fate shall be to dangle on a cord,
and your posterity forever shall
take your example, that your punishment
may last forever!” Even as she spoke,
before withdrawing from her victim's sight,
she sprinkled her with juice—extract of herbs
of Hecate.
At once all hair fell off,
her nose and ears remained not, and her head
shrunk rapidly in size, as well as all
her body, leaving her diminutive.—
Her slender fingers gathered to her sides
as long thin legs; and all her other parts
were fast absorbed in her abdomen—whence
she vented a fine thread;—and ever since,
Arachne, as a spider, weaves her web.

> Latin: Threiciam Rhodopen habet angulus unus et Haemum
(nunc gelidi montes, mortalia corpora quondam!),
nomina summorum sibi qui tribuere deorum.
Altera Pygmaeae fatum miserabile matris
pars habet: hanc Iuno victam certamine iussit
esse gruem populisque suis indicere bella.
Pinxit et Antigonen ausam contendere quondam
cum magni consorte Iovis, quam regia Iuno
in volucrem vertit; nec profuit Ilion illi
Laomedonve pater, sumptis quin candida pennis
ipsa sibi plaudat crepitante ciconia rostro.
Qui superest solus, Cinyran habet angulus orbum;
isque gradus templi, natarum membra suarum,
amplectens saxoque iacens lacrimare videtur.
Circuit extremas oleis pacalibus oras:
is modus est, operisque sua facit arbore finem.
Maeonis elusam designat imagine tauri
Europam: verum taurum, freta vera putares.
Ipsa videbatur terras spectare relictas
et comites clamare suas tactumque vereri
adsilientis aquae timidasque reducere plantas.
Fecit et Asterien aquila luctante teneri,
fecit olorinis Ledam recubare sub alis;
addidit, ut satyri celatus imagine pulchram
Iuppiter implerit gemino Nycteida fetu,
Amphitryon fuerit, cum te, Tirynthia, cepit,
aureus ut Danaen, Asopida luserit ignis,
Mnemosynen pastor, varius Deoida serpens.
Te quoque mutatum torvo, Neptune, iuvenco
virgine in Aeolia posuit. Tu visus Enipeus
gignis Aloidas, aries Bisaltida fallis;
et te flava comas frugum mitissima mater
sensit equum, sensit volucrem crinita colubris
mater equi volucris, sensit delphina Melantho.
Omnibus his faciemque suam faciemque locorum
reddidit. Est illic agrestis imagine Phoebus,
utque modo accipitris pennas, modo terga leonis
gesserit, ut pastor Macareida luserit Issen;
Liber ut Erigonen falsa deceperit uva,
ut Saturnus equo geminum Chirona crearit.
Ultima pars telae, tenui circumdata limbo,
nexilibus flores hederis habet intertextos.
Non illud Pallas, non illud carpere Livor
possit opus. Doluit successu flava virago
et rupit pictas, caelestia crimina, vestes.
Utque Cytoriaco radium de monte tenebat,
ter quater Idmoniae frontem percussit Arachnes.
Non tulit infelix laqueoque animosa ligavit
guttura. Pendentem Pallas miserata levavit
atque ita “vive quidem, pende tamen, improba” dixit:
“lexque eadem poenae, ne sis secura futuri,
dicta tuo generi serisque nepotibus esto.”
Post ea discedens sucis Hecateidos herbae
sparsit; et extemplo tristi medicamine tactae
defluxere comae, cum quis et naris et aures,
fitque caput minimum, toto quoque corpore parva est:
in latere exiles digiti pro cruribus haerent,
cetera venter habet: de quo tamen illa remittit
stamen et antiquas exercet aranea telas.

[¶2] All Lydia was astonished at her fate
the Rumor spread to Phrygia, soon the world
was filled with fear and wonder. Niobe
had known her long before,—when in Maeonia
near to Mount Sipylus; but the sad fate
which overtook Arachne, lost on her,
she never ceased her boasting and refused
to honor the great Gods.
So many things
increased her pride: She loved to boast
her husband's skill, their noble family,
the rising grandeur of their kingdom. Such
felicities were great delights to her;
but nothing could exceed the haughty way
she boasted of her children: and, in truth,
Niobe might have been adjudged on earth,
the happiest mother of mankind, if pride
had not destroyed her wit.
It happened then,
that Manto, daughter of Tiresias,
who told the future; when she felt the fire
of prophecy descend upon her, rushed
upon the street and shouted in the midst:
“You women of Ismenus! go and give
to high Latona and her children, twain,
incense and prayer. Go, and with laurel wreathe
your hair in garlands, as your sacred prayers
arise to heaven. Give heed, for by my speech
Latona has ordained these holy rites.”
At once, the Theban women wreathe their brows
with laurel, and they cast in hallowed flame
the grateful incense, while they supplicate
all favors of the ever-living Gods.
And while they worship, Niobe comes there,
surrounded with a troup that follow her,
and most conspicuous in her purple robe,
bright with inwoven threads of yellow gold.
Beautiful in her anger, she tosses back
her graceful head. The glory of her hair
shines on her shoulders. Standing forth,
she looks upon them with her haughty eyes,
and taunts them, “Madness has prevailed on you
to worship some imagined Gods of Heaven,
which you have only heard of; but the Gods
that truly are on earth, and can be seen,
are all neglected! Come, explain to me,
why is Latona worshiped and adored,
and frankincense not offered unto me?
For my divinity is known to you.
“Tantalus was my father, who alone
approached the tables of the Gods in heaven;
my mother, sister of the Pleiades,
was daughter of huge Atlas, who supports
the world upon his shoulders; I can boast
of Jupiter as father of my sire,
I count him also as my father-in-law.
The peoples of my Phrygia dread my power,
and I am mistress of the palace built
by Cadmus. By my husband, I am queen
of those great walls that reared themselves
to the sweet music of his sounding lyre.
We rule together all the people they
encompass and defend. And everywhere
my gaze is turned, an evidence of wealth
is witnessed.
“In my features you can see
the beauty of a goddess, but above
that majesty is all the glory due
to me, the mother of my seven sons
and daughters seven. And the time will come
when by their marriage they will magnify
the circle of my power invincible.
“All must acknowledge my just cause of pride
and must no longer worship, in despite
of my superior birth, this deity,
a daughter of ignoble Coeus, whom
one time the great Earth would not even grant
sufficient space for travail: whom the Heavens,
the Land, the Sea together once compelled
to wander, hopeless on all hostile shores!
Throughout the world she found herself rebuffed,
till Delos, sorry for the vagrant, said,
‘Homeless you roam the lands, and I the seas!’
And even her refuge always was adrift.
“And there she bore two children, who, compared
with mine, are but as one to seven. Who
denies my fortunate condition?—Who
can doubt my future?—I am surely safe.
“The wealth of my abundance is too strong
for Fortune to assail me. Let her rage
despoil me of large substance; yet so much
would still be mine, for I have risen above
the blight of apprehension. But, suppose
a few of my fair children should be taken!
Even so deprived, I could not be reduced
to only two, as this Latona, who,
might quite as well be childless.—Get you gone
from this insensate sacrifice. Make haste!
Cast off the wreathing laurels from your brows!”
They plucked the garlands from their hair, and left
the sacrifice, obedient to her will,
although in gentle murmurs they adored
the goddess Niobe had so defamed.
Latona, furious when she heard the speech,
flew swiftly to the utmost peak of Cynthus,
and spoke to her two children in these words:
“Behold your mother, proud of having borne
such glorious children! I will yield
prestige before no goddess—save alone
immortal Juno! I have been debased,
and driven for all ages from my own—
my altars, unto me devoted long,
and so must languish through eternity,
unless by you sustained. Nor is this all;.
That daughter of Tantalus, bold Niobe,
has added curses to her evil deeds,
and with a tongue as wicked as her sire's,
has raised her base-born children over mine.
Has even called me childless! A sad fate
more surely should be hers! Oh, I entreat”—
But Phoebus answered her, “No more complaint
is necessary, for it only serves
to hinder the swift sequel of her doom.”
And with the same words Phoebe answered her.
And having spoken, they descended through
the shielding shadows of surrounding clouds,
and hovered on the citadel of Cadmus.

> Latin: Lydia tota fremit, Phrygiaeque per oppida facti
rumor it et magnum sermonibus occupat orbem.
Ante suos Niobe thalamos cognoverat illam,
tum cum Maeoniam virgo Sipylumque colebat;
nec tamen admonita est poena popularis Arachnes
cedere caelitibus verbisque minoribus uti.
Multa dabant animos: sed enim nec coniugis artes
nec genus amborum magnique potentia regni
sic placuere illi, quamvis ea cuncta placerent,
ut sua progenies; et felicissima matrum
dicta foret Niobe, si non sibi visa fuisset.
Nam sata Tiresia venturi praescia Manto
per medias fuerat divino concita motu
vaticinata vias: “Ismenides, ite frequentes
et date Latonae Latonigenisque duobus
cum prece tura pia lauroque innectite crinem.
Ore meo Latona iubet.” Paretur, et omnes
Thebaides iussis sua tempora frondibus ornant
turaque dant sanctis et verba precantia flammis.
Ecce venit comitum Niobe celeberrima turba,
vestibus intexto Phrygiis spectabilis auro,
et, quantum ira sinit, formosa: movensque decoro
cum capite inmissos umerum per utrumque capillos
constitit; utque oculos circumtulit alta superbos,
“quis furor, auditos” inquit “praeponere visis
caelestes? aut cur colitur Latona per aras,
numen adhuc sine ture meum est? mihi Tantalus auctor,
cui licuit soli superorum tangere mensas,
Pleiadum soror est genetrix mea, maximus Atlas
est avus, aetherium qui fert cervicibus axem;
Iuppiter alter avus socero quoque glorior illo.
Me gentes metuunt Phrygiae, me regia Cadmi
sub domina est, fidibusque mei commissa mariti
moenia cum populis a meque viroque reguntur.
In quamcumque domus adverti lumina partem,
inmensae spectantur opes. Accedit eodem
digna dea facies. Huc natas adice septem
et totidem iuvenes et mox generosque nurusque.
Quaerite nunc, habeat quam nostra superbia causam,
nescio quoque audete satam Titanida Coeo
Latonam praeferre mihi, cui maxima quondam
exiguam sedem pariturae terra negavit.
Nec caelo nec humo nec aquis dea vestra recepta est:
exsul erat mundi, donec miserata vagantem
“hospita tu terris erras, ego” dixit “in undis”
instabilemque locum Delos dedit. Illa duorum
facta parens: uteri pars haec est septima nostri.
Sum felix: quis enim neget hoc? felixque manebo:
hoc quoque quis dubitet? tutam me copia fecit,
Maior sum, quam cui possit Fortuna nocere,
multaque ut eripiat, multo mihi plura relinquet.
Excessere metum mea iam bona. Fingite demi
huic aliquid populo natorum posse meorum,
non tamen ad numerum redigar spoliata duorum,
Latonae turbam: qua quantum distat ab orba?
Ite, satis, propere ite, sacri est laurumque capillis
ponite.” Deponunt et sacra infecta relinquunt,
quodque licet tacito venerantur murmure numen.
Indignata dea est summoque in vertice Cynthi
talibus est dictis gemina cum prole locuta:
“En ego vestra parens, vobis animosa creatis,
et nisi Iunoni nulli cessura dearum,
an dea sim dubitor perque omnia saecula cultis
arceor, o nati, nisi vos succurritis, aris.
Nec dolor hic solus: diro convicia facto
Tantalis adiecit vosque est postponere natis
ausa suis, et me, quod in ipsam reccidat, orbam,
dixit et exhibuit linguam scelerata paternam.”
Adiectura preces erat his Latona relatis:
“desine!” Phoebus ait: “poenae mora longa querella est.”
Dixit idem Phoebe: celerique per aera lapsu
contigerant tecti Calmeida nubibus arcem.

[¶3] There, far below them, was a level plain
which swept around those walls; where trampling steeds,
with horny hoofs, and multitudinous wheels,
had beaten a wide track. And on the field
the older sons of Niobe on steeds
emblazoned with bright dyes and harness rich
with studded gold were circling.—One of these,
Ismenus, first-born of his mother, while
controlling his fleet courser's foaming mouth,
cried out, “Ah wretched me!” A shaft had pierced
the middle of his breast; and as the reins
dropped slowly on the rapid courser's neck,
his drooping form fell forward to the ground.
Not far from him, his brother, Sipylus,
could hear the whistling of a fatal shaft,
and in his fright urged on the plunging steed:
as when the watchful pilot, sensible
of storms approaching, crowds on sail,
hoping to catch a momentary breeze,
so fled he, urging an impetuous flight;
but, while he fled the shaft, unerring, flew;
transfixed him with its quivering death; struck where
the neck supports the head and the sharp point
protruded from his throat. In his swift flight,
as he was leaning forward, he was struck;
and, rolling over the wild horse's neck
pitched to the ground, and stained it with his blood.
Unhappy Phaedimus, and Tantalus,
(So named from his maternal grandsire) now
had finished coursing on the track, and smooth.
Shining with oil, were wrestling in the field;
and while those brothers struggled—breast to breast—
another arrow, hurtling from the sky,
pierced them together, just as they were clinched.
The mingled sound that issued from two throats
was like a single groan. Convulsed with pain,
the wrestlers fell together on the ground,
where, stricken with a double agony,
rolling their eyeballs, they sobbed out their lives.
Alphenor saw them die—beating his breast
in agony—ran to lift in his arms
their lifeless bodies cold—while doing this
he fell upon them. Phoebus struck him so,
piercing his midriff in a vital part,
with fatal shot, which, when he pulled it forth,
dragged with its barb a torn clot of his lung—
his blood and life poured out upon the air.
The youthful Damasicthon next was struck,
not only once; an arrow pierced his leg
just where the sinews of the thigh begin,
and as he turned and stooped to pluck it out,
another keen shaft shot into his neck,
up to the fletching.—The blood drove it out,
and spouted after it in crimson jets.
Then, Ilioneus, last of seven sons,
lifted his unavailing arms in prayer,
and cried, “O Universal Deities,
gods of eternal heaven, spare my life!”—
Besought too late, Apollo of the Bow,
could not prevail against the deadly shaft,
already on its way: and yet his will,
compellant, acted to retard its flight,
so that it cut no deeper than his heart.
The rumors of an awful tragedy,—
the wailings of sad Niobe's loved friends,—
the terror of her grieving relatives,—
all gave some knowledge of her sudden loss:
but so bewildered and enraged her mind,
that she could hardly realize the Gods
had privilege to dare against her might.
Nor would she, till her lord, Amphion, thrust
his sword deep in his breast, by which his life
and anguish both were ended in dark night.
Alas, proud Niobe, once haughty queen!
Proud Niobe who but so lately drove
her people from Latona's altars, while,
moving majestic through the midst, she hears
their plaudits, now so bitterly debased,
her meanest enemy may pity her!—
She fell upon the bodies of her sons,
and in a frenzy of maternal grief,
kissed their unfeeling lips. Then unto Heaven
with arms accusing, railed upon her foe:
“Glut your revenge! Latona, glut your rage!
Yea, let my lamentations be your joy!
Go—satiate your flinty heart with death!
Are not my seven sons all dead? Am I
not waiting to be carried to my grave?—
exult and triumph, my victorious foe!
Victorious? Nay!—Much more remains to me
in all my utmost sorrow, than to you,
you gloater upon vengeance—Undismayed,
I stand victorious in my Field of Woe!”
no sooner had she spoken, than the cord
twanged from the ever-ready bow; and all
who heard the fatal sound, again were filled
with fear,—save Niobe, in misery bold,—
defiant in misfortune.—Clothed in black,
the sisters of the stricken brothers stood,
with hair disheveled, by the funeral biers.
And one while plucking from her brother's heart
a shaft, swooned unto death, fell on her face—
on her dear brother's corpse. Another girl,
while she consoled her mother, suddenly,
was stricken with an unseen, deadly wound;
and doubled in convulsions, closed her lips,
tight held them, till both breath and life were lost.
Another, vainly rushed away from death—
she met it, and pitched head-first to the ground;
and still another died upon her corse,
another vainly sought a secret death,
and, then another slipped beyond's life's edge.
So, altogether, six of seven died—
each victim, strickened in a different way.
One child remained. Then in a frenzy-fear
the mother, as she covered her with all
her garments and her body, wailed—“Oh, leave
me this one child! the youngest of them all!
My darling daughter—only leave me one!”
But even while she was entreating for its life—
the life was taken from her only child.
Childless— she crouched beside her slaughtered sons,
her lifeless daughters, and her husband's corpse.
The breeze not even moved her fallen hair,
a chill of marble spread upon her flesh,
beneath her pale, set brows, her eyes moved not,
her bitter tongue turned stiff in her hard jaws,
her lovely veins congealed, and her stiff neck
and rigid hands could neither bend nor move.—
her limbs and body, all were changed to stone.
Yet ever would she weep: and as her tears
were falling she was carried from the place,
enveloped in a storm and mighty wind,
far, to her native land, where fixed upon
a mountain summit she dissolves in tears,—
and to this day the marble drips with tears.

> Latin: Planus erat lateque patens prope moenia campus,
adsiduis pulsatus equis, ubi turba rotarum
duraque mollierat subiectas ungula glaebas.
Pars ibi de septem genitis Amphione fortes
conscendunt in equos Tyrioque rubentia suco
terga premunt auroque graves moderantur habenas.
E quibus Ismenus, qui matri sarcina quondam
prima suae fuerat, dum certum flectit in orbem
quadrupedis cursus spumantiaque ora coercet,
“ei mihi!” conclamat medioque in pectore fixa
tela gerit, frenisque manu moriente remissis
in latus a dextro paulatim defluit armo.
Proximus, audito sonitu per inane pharetrae,
frena dabat Sipylus, veluti cum praescius imbris
nube fugit visa pendentiaque undique rector
carbasa deducit, ne qua levis effluat aura.
Frena tamen dantem non evitabile telum
consequitur; summaque tremens cervice sagitta
haesit, et exstabat nudum de gutture ferrum.
Ille, ut erat, pronus per crura admissa iubasque
volvitur et calido tellurem sanguine foedat.
Phaedimus infelix et aviti nominis heres
Tantalus, ut solito finem imposuere labori,
transierant ad opus nitidae iuvenale palaestrae;
et iam contulerant arto luctantia nexu
pectora pectoribus, cum tento concita nervo,
sicut erant iuncti, traiecit utrumque sagitta.
Ingemuere simul, simul incurvata dolore
membra solo posuere, simul suprema iacentes
lumina versarunt, animam simul exhalarunt.
Adspicit Alphenor laniataque pectora plangens
advolat, ut gelidos complexibus adlevet artus,
inque pio cadit officio: nam Delius illi
intima fatifero rupit praecordia ferro.
Quod simul eductum est, pars est pulmonis in hamis
eruta cumque anima cruor est effusus in auras.
At non intonsum simplex Damasichthona vulnus
adficit. Ictus erat qua crus esse incipit et qua
mollia nervosus facit internodia poples.
Dumque manu temptat trahere exitiabile telum,
altera per iugulum pennis tenus acta sagitta est.
Expulit hanc sanguis, seque eiaculatus in altum
emicat et longe terebrata prosilit aura.
Ultimus Ilioneus non profectura precando
bracchia sustulerat, “di” que “o communiter omnes,”
dixerat ignarus non omnes esse rogandos
“parcite.” Motus erat, cum iam revocabile telum
non fuit, arquitenens. Minimo tamen occidit ille
vulnere, non alte percusso corde sagitta.
Fama mali populique dolor lacrimaeque suorum
tam subitae matrem certam fecere ruinae,
mirantem potuisse, irascentemque, quod ausi
hoc essent superi, quod tantum iuris haberent.
Nam pater Amphion ferro per pectus adacto
finierat moriens pariter cum luce dolorem.
Heu quantum haec Niobe Niobe distabat ab illa,
quae modo Latois populum submoverat aris
et mediam tulerat gressus resupina per urbem,
invidiosa suis, at nunc miseranda vel hosti.
Corporibus gelidis incumbit et ordine nullo
oscula dispensat natos suprema per omnes.
A quibus ad caelum liventia bracchia tollens
“pascere, crudelis, nostro, Latona, dolore,
pascere” ait “satiaque meo tua pectora luctu:
efferor. Exsulta victrixque inimica triumpha.
Cur autem victrix? miserae mihi plura supersunt,
quam tibi felici: post tot quoque funera vinco.”
Dixerat, et sonuit contento nervus ab arcu.
Qui praeter Nioben unam conterruit omnes:
illa malo est audax. Stabant cum vestibus atris
ante toros fratrum demisso crine sorores.
E quibus una trahens haerentia viscere tela
imposito fratri moribunda relanguit ore:
altera solari miseram conata parentem
conticuit subito duplicataque vulnere tota est.
Haec frustra fugiens collabitur, illa sorori
inmoritur, latet haec, illam trepidare videres.
Sexque datis leto diversaque vulnera passis
ultima restabat. Quam toto corpore mater,
tota veste tegens “unam minimamque relinque
de multis minimam posco” clamavit “et unam.”
Dumque rogat, pro qua rogat, occidit. Orba resedit
exanimes inter natos natasque virumque,
deriguitque malis. Nullos movet aura capillos,
in vultu color est sine sanguine, lumina maestis
stant inmota genis, nihil est in imagine vivum.
Ipsa quoque interius cum duro lingua palato
congelat, et venae desistunt posse moveri;
nec flecti cervix nec bracchia reddere motus
nec pes ire potest; intra quoque viscera saxum est.
Flet tamen. Et validi circumdata turbine venti
in patriam rapta est. Ibi fixa cacumine montis
liquitur, et lacrimas etiam nunc marmora manant.

[¶4] All men and women, after this event,
feared to incur Latona's fateful wrath,
and worshiped with more zeal the Deity,
mother of twins.—And, as it is the way
of men to talk of many other things
after a strong occurrence, they recalled
what other deeds the goddess had performed;—
and one of them recited this event:
'Twas in the ancient days of long-ago,—
some rustics, in the fertile fields of Lycia,
heedless, insulted the goddess to their harm:—
perhaps you've never heard of this event,
because those country clowns were little known.
The event was wonderful, but I can vouch
the truth of it. I visited the place
and I have seen the pool of water, where
happened the miracle I now relate.
My good old father, then advanced in years,
incapable of travel, ordered me
to fetch some cattle—thoroughbreds—from there,
and had secured a Lycian for my guide,
as I traversed the pastures, with the man,
it chanced, I saw an ancient altar,—grimed
with sacrificial ashes—in the midst
of a large pool, with sedge and reeds around,
a-quiver in the breeze. And there my guide
stood on the marge, and with an awe-struck voice
began to whisper, “Be propitious, hear
my supplications, and forget not me!”
And I, observing him, echoed the words,
“Forget not me!” which, having done, I turned
to him and said, “Whose altar can this be?
Perhaps a sacred altar of the Fauns,
or of the Naiads, or a native God?”
To which my guide replied, “Young man, such Gods
may not be worshiped at this altar. She
whom once the royal Juno drove away
to wander a harsh world, alone permits
this altar to be used: that goddess whom
the wandering Isle of Delos, at the time
it drifted as the foam, almost refused
a refuge.
There Latona, as she leaned
against a palm-tree—and against the tree
most sacred to Minerva, brought forth twins,
although their harsh step-mother, Juno, strove
to interfere.—And from the island forced
to fly by jealous Juno, on her breast
she bore her children, twin Divinities.
At last, outwearied with the toil, and parched
with thirst—long-wandering in those heated days
over the arid land of Lycia, where
was bred the dire Chimaera— at the time
her parching breasts were drained, she saw this pool
of crystal water, shimmering in the vale.
Some countrymen were there to gather reeds,
and useful osiers, and the bulrush, found
with sedge in fenny pools. To them approached
Latona, and she knelt upon the merge
to cool her thirst, with some refreshing water.
But those clowns forbade her and the goddess cried,
as they so wickedly opposed her need:
“Why do you so resist my bitter thirst?
The use of water is the sacred right
of all mankind, for Nature has not made
the sun and air and water, for the sole
estate of any creature; and to Her
kind bounty I appeal, although of you
I humbly beg the use of it. Not here
do I intend to bathe my wearied limbs.
I only wish to quench an urgent thirst,
for, even as I speak, my cracking lips
and mouth so parched, almost deny me words.
A drink of water will be like a draught
of nectar, giving life; and I shall owe
to you the bounty and my life renewed.—
ah, let these tender infants, whose weak arms
implore you from my bosom, but incline
your hearts to pity!” And just as she spoke,
it chanced the children did stretch out their arms
and who would not be touched to hear such words,
as spoken by this goddess, and refuse?
But still those clowns persisted in their wrong
against the goddess; for they hindered her,
and threatened with their foul, abusive tongues
to frighten her away—and, worse than all,
they even muddied with their hands and feet
the clear pool; forcing the vile, slimy dregs
up from the bottom, in a spiteful way,
by jumping up and down.—Enraged at this,
she felt no further thirst, nor would she deign
to supplicate again; but, feeling all
the outraged majesty of her high state,
she raised her hands to Heaven, and exclaimed,
“Forever may you live in that mud-pool!”
The curse as soon as uttered took effect,
and every one of them began to swim
beneath the water, and to leap and plunge
deep in the pool.—Now, up they raise their heads,
now swim upon the surface, now they squat
themselves around the marshy margent, now
they plump again down to the chilly deeps.
And, ever and again, with croaking throats,
indulge offensive strife upon the banks,
or even under water, boom abuse.
Their ugly voices cause their bloated necks
to puff out; and their widened jaws are made
still wider in the venting of their spleen.
Their backs, so closely fastened to their heads,
make them appear as if their shrunken necks
have been cut off. Their backbones are dark green;
white are their bellies, now their largest part.—
Forever since that time, the foolish frogs
muddy their own pools, where they leap and dive.

> Latin: Tum vero cuncti manifestam numinis iram
femina virque timent cultuque impensius omnes
magna gemelliparae venerantur numina divae,
utque fit, a facto propiore priora renarrant.
E quibus unus ait: “Lyciae quoque fertilis agris
non impune deam veteres sprevere coloni.
Res obscura quidem est ignobilitate virorum,
mira tamen. Vidi praesens stagnumque locumque
prodigio notum. Nam me iam grandior aevo
impatiensque viae genitor deducere lectos
iusserat inde boves gentisque illius eunti
ipse ducem dederat. Cum quo dum pascua lustro,
ecce lacu medio sacrorum nigra favilla
ara vetus stabat tremulis circumdata cannis.
Restitit et pavido “faveas mihi” murmure dixit
dux meus; et simili “faveas” ego murmure dixi.
Naiadum Faunine foret tamen ara rogabam
indigenaeve dei, cum talia rettulit hospes:
“Non hac, o iuvenis, montanum numen in ara est:
illa suam vocat hanc, cui quondam regia coniunx
orbem interdixit, quam vix erratica Delos
orantem accepit, tum cum levis insula nabat.
Illic incumbens cum Palladis arbore palmae
edidit invita geminos Latona noverca.
Hinc quoque Iunonem fugisse puerpera fertur
inque suo portasse sinu, duo numina, natos.
Iamque Chimaeriferae, cum sol gravis ureret arva,
finibus in Lyciae longo dea fessa labore
sidereo siccata sitim conlegit ab aestu,
uberaque ebiberant avidi lactantia nati.
Forte lacum mediocris aquae prospexit in imis
vallibus; agrestes illic fruticosa legebant
vimina cum iuncis gratamque paludibus ulvam.
Accessit positoque genu Titania terram
pressit, ut hauriret gelidos potura liquores.
Rustica turba vetat. Dea sic adfata vetantes:
“Quid prohibetis aquis? usus communis aquarum est.
Nec solem proprium natura nec aera fecit
nec tenues undas: ad publica munera veni.
Quae tamen ut detis, supplex peto. Non ego nostros
abluere hic artus lassataque membra parabam,
sed relevare sitim. Caret os umore loquentis
et fauces arent, vixque est via vocis in illis.
Haustus aquae mihi nectar erit, vitamque fatebor
accepisse simul: vitam dederitis in unda.
Hi quoque vos moveant, qui nostro bracchia tendunt
parva sinu:” et casu tendebant bracchia nati.
Quem non blanda deae potuissent verba movere?
Hi tamen orantem perstant prohibere minasque,
ni procul abscedat, conviciaque insuper addunt.
Nec satis est, ipsos etiam pedibusque manuque
turbavere lacus imoque e gurgite mollem
huc illuc limum saltu movere maligno.
Distulit ira sitim: neque enim iam filia Coei
supplicat indignis nec dicere sustinet ultra
verba minora dea, tollensque ad sidera palmas
“aeternum stagno” dixit “vivatis in isto.”
Eveniunt optata deae: iuvat esse sub undis
et modo tota cava submergere membra palude,
nunc proferre caput, summo modo gurgite nare,
saepe super ripam stagni consistere, saepe
in gelidos resilire lacus. Sed nunc quoque turpes
litibus exercent linguas pulsoque pudore,
quamvis sint sub aqua, sub aqua maledicere temptant.
Vox quoque iam rauca est, inflataque colla tumescunt,
ipsaque dilatant patulos convicia rictus.
Terga caput tangunt, colla intercepta videntur,
spina viret, venter, pars maxima corporis, albet,
limosoque novae saliunt in gurgite ranae.””