LVI
Λάτω καὶ Νιόβα μάλα μὲν φίλαι ἦσαν ἔταιραι·
LETO and Niobe were friends full dear :
Then were they foes
As only those
Can be who once were near
Each to the other's heart,
Who could not breathe apart,
Nor shed a lonely tear.
Leto and Niobe were virgins then,
Nor knew the strange,
Deep-severing change
That comes to women when
Elected, raised above
All else, they thrill with love,
The love of gods or men.
From forth seven-gated Thebes Amphion sped,
And by his side
Bore off as bride
Fair Niobe ; more dread
The wooer who unknown
From thunder-guarded throne
Rose her shy friend to wed.
And when they met once more Leto had borne
With willing pain
To Zeus her twain
On Delos' beach, forlorn.
But Niobe, elate
With her more bounteous fate,
Heard of the two with scorn :
For she had nine fair sons, nine daughters fair,
And this she told
With comment bold,
And jeered at Leto's pair.
Ah, shameless were the taunts,
Unbearable her vaunts,
And over-weening air.
Apollo and his sister both divine,
Insulted, fierce,
With darts to pierce
The Theban brood combine ;
Then girls and boys sink dead
As pitiless o'erhead
The vengeful archers shine.
And Niobe in anguish sees her own
Injurious friend
Aside commend
The deed—and makes no moan :
'Tis not her stricken flock,
Hate's violating shock
Turns her fond heart to stone.
Leto and Niobe—ah !—once were friends
Youth's tender way,
Together lay,
Quarrelled, and made amends ;
Though clinging children fall
Around, this to recall
Maternal grief transcends.
