No fame her natal town, no fame her sire On her bestow'd; her skill conferr'd renown.

Idmon of Colophon, her humble sire Soak'd in the Phocian dye the spongy wool.

Her mother, late deceas'd, from lowest stock, Had sprung; and wedded with an equal mate.

Yet had she gain'd through all the Lydian towns For skill a mighty fame. Though born so low, Though small Hypaepe was her sole abode, Oft would the nymphs the vine-clad Tmolus leave To view her wonderous work. Oft would the nymphs In admiration quit Pactolus' waves.

Nor pleasure only gave the finish'd robe, When view'd; but while she work'd she gave delight; Such comely grace in every turn appear'd.

Whether she rounded into b.a.l.l.s the wool; Or with her fingers mollify'd the fleece; And comb'd it floating light in cloudy waves; Or her smooth spindle twirl'd with agile thumb; Or with her needle painted: plain was seen Her skill from Pallas learnt. This to concede Unwilling, she ev'n such a tutor scorn'd Exclaiming:--"come let her the contest try; "If vanquish'd, let her fix my well-earn'd fate."

Pallas, an ancient matron's form conceals; Grey hairs thin strew her temples, and a staff Supports her tottering limbs; while thus she speaks:-- "Old age though little priz'd, much good attends; "Experience always grows with lengthen'd years: "Spurn not my admonition. Great thy fame, "Midst mortals, for the wonders of the loom.

"Great may it be, but to immortals yield: "Bold nymph retract, and pardon for thy words, "With suppliant voice require; Pallas will grant."

Sternly the damsel views her; quits the threads Unfinish'd; scarce her hand from force restrains: And rage in all her features flushing fierce, Thus to the G.o.ddess, well-disguis'd, she speaks:-- "Weak dotard, spent with too great gift of years, "Curst with too long existence, hence, begone!

"Such admonition to thy daughters give, "If daughters hast thou; or thy sons have wives: "Enough for me my inbred wisdom serves.

"Hope not, that ought thy vain advice has sway'd "My purpose; still my challenge holds the same.

"Why comes your G.o.ddess not? why shuns she still "The trying contest?" Then the G.o.ddess,--"Lo!

"She comes,"--and flung her aged form aside, Minerva's form displaying. Every nymph, And every dame Mygdonian, lowly bent In veneration. While Arachne sole Stood stedfast, unalarm'd; but yet she blush'd.

A sudden flush her angry face deep ting'd, But sudden faded pale. A ruddy glow Thus teints the early sky, when first the morn Arises; quickly from the solar ray Paling to brightness. On her purpos'd boast Still stubborn bent, she obstinately courts Her sure destruction, for the empty hope Of conquest in the strife so madly urg'd.

No more Jove's maid refuses, gives no more Her empty admonitions, nor delays The contest: each her station straight a.s.sumes, Tighten each web; each slender thread prepare.

Firm to the beam the cloth is fix'd; the reed The warp divides, with pointed shuttle, swift Gliding between; which quick their fingers throw, Quick extricate, and with the toothy comb Firm press'd between the warp, the threads unite.

Both hasten now; their garments round them girt, Their skilful hands they ply: their toil forgot In anxious wish for conquest. There appear'd, The wool of Tyrian dye, and softening teints Lost imperceptible. So seems the arch Coloring a s.p.a.cious portion of the sky; Struck by the rays of Phbus, when the showers Recede, a thousand varying tinges shine; The soft transition mocks the straining eye, So like the shades which join, though far distinct Their distant teints. In slender threads they twist The pliant gold, and in the web display, Each as she works, an ancient story fair.

Minerva paints the rock of Mars so fam'd In Cecrops' city, and the well-known strife To name the town. Twice six celestials sate On their high thrones, great Jupiter around In gravity majestic; every G.o.d Bore his celestial features. Jove appear'd In royal dignity. The Ocean power Standing she pictur'd, with his trident huge Smiting the rugged rock; from the cleft stone Leap'd forth a steed; and thence the town to name The privilege he claim'd. Herself she paints Shielded, and arm'd with keenly-pointed spear.

Helm'd was her head; her breast the aegis bore.

Struck by her spear, the earth a h.o.a.ry tree She shews producing, loaded thick with fruit.

The wondering G.o.ds the gift admire; the prize To her awarded, ends the glorious work.

More, that the daring rival of her art, Should learn experimental, what reward Her mad attempt might hope, four parts she adds; And every part a test of power presents: Bright the small figures in her colors shine.

This angle Thracian Rhodope contains, With Haemus; both their mortal bodies now, To frozen mountains chang'd; whose lofty pride a.s.sum'd the t.i.tles of celestial powers.

Another corner held the wretched fate Felt by Pygmaea's matron; Juno bade Her vanquish'd rival soar aloft a crane; And on her people wage continual war.

Antigone, she paints;--audacious she With Jove's imperial consort durst contend; By Jove's imperial queen she flits a bird: Nor aids her Ilium ought; nor aids her sire, Laomedon;--upborne on snowy wings, A stork she rises; loud with chattering bill She noises. In the sole remaining part, Was childless Cynaras, in close embrace, Grasping the temple's steps, his daughters once; And as he lies extended on the stone, In marble seems to weep. Around the piece She spreads the peaceful olive: all complete Her work is ended with her favorite tree.

Arachne paints Europa, by a bull Deceiv'd; the G.o.d a real bull appears; And real seem the waves. She, backward turn'd, Views the receding sh.o.r.e, and seems to shriek Loud to her lost companions; seems to dread The dashing waves, and timid shrinks her feet.

She draws Asteria, by the G.o.d o'er-power'd, Cloth'd in an eagle. Leda, fair she lays Beneath his wings, when he a swan appears.

She adds how Jove beneath a Satyr's shape Conceal'd, the beauteous child of Nycteus fill'd, With a twin-offspring. In Amphytrion's form Alcmena, thou wert press'd. A golden shower Danae deceiv'd. A flame aegina caught.

A shepherd's shape Mnemosyne beguil'd.

And fair Deois trusts a speckled snake.

Thee, Neptune, too she painted, for the maid aeolian, to a threatening bull transform'd.

Thou, as Enipeus, didst the Alod twins Beget. Beneath the semblance of a ram, Theophane was cheated. Ceres mild, Of grain inventress, with her yellow locks, In shape a courser felt thy ardent love.

Medusa, mother of the flying steed, Nymph of the snaky tresses, in a bird Conceal'd, you forc'd. Melantho in a fish.

To these the damsel, all well-suiting forms Dispens'd, and all well-suiting scenes attend.

And there Apollo in a herdsman's guise Wanders. And now he soars a plumy hawk: Now stalks a lordly lion. As a swain Macarean Isse, felt his amorous guile, Erigone to Bacchus' flame was dup'd Beneath a well-seem'd grape. Saturn produc'd The Centaur doubly-shap'd, in form a steed.

Her web's extremes a slender border girt, Where flowery wreathes, and twining ivy blend.

Not Pallas,--not even envy's rankling soul Could blame the work. The bright immortal griev'd To view her rival's merit, angry tore The picture glowing with celestial crimes.

A boxen shuttle, grasping in her hand, Thrice on the forehead of th' Idmonian maid She struck. No more Arachne, hapless bore, But twisted round her neck with desperate pride A cord. The deed Minerva pitying saw And check'd her rash suspension.--"Impious wretch!

"Still live," she cry'd, "but still suspended hang; "Curs'd to futurity, for all thy race, "Thy sons and grandsons, to the latest day "Alike shall feel the sentence." Speaking thus, The juice of Hecat's baleful plant she throws: Instant besprinkled by the noxious drops, Her tresses fall; her nose and ears are lost; Her body shrinks; her head is lessen'd more; Her slender fingers root within her sides, Serving as legs; her belly forms the rest; From whence her thread she still derives and spins: Her art pursuing in the spider's shape.

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 Niobe. She, when a virgin dwelt In Lydian Sipylus. She still unmov'd, Arachne's neighboring fate not heeded, still Proudly refus'd before the G.o.ds 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 G.o.ddess 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 Niobe, 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 G.o.ds above the G.o.ds 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 Pleiad 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 t.i.tanian Caeus sprung,-- "The unknown Caeus,--she to whom all earth "In bearing pangs the smallest s.p.a.ce deny'd:-- "This wretch to my divinity prefer?

"Not heaven your G.o.ddess 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 surpa.s.s'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: "s.n.a.t.c.h 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 G.o.ddess 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 Niobe 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 Niobe, 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. p.r.o.ne he fell O'er his high courser's head; his smoking gore, The ground defiling. Hapless Phdimas, 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, p.r.o.ne 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 Phbus 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 G.o.ds!"

Witless that all not join'd to cause his woe.

The G.o.d 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 Niobe, 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 tw.a.n.ging bowstring sounded loud!

Terrific noise,--save Niobe, 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 G.o.ddess' 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 G.o.ddess, 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 s.p.a.cious 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 G.o.d "The altar own'd?--when thus my guide reply'd.

"No mountain G.o.d, 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 G.o.ddess 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 gra.s.s.

"Approach'd the G.o.ddess; 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 pa.s.sage 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 G.o.ddess' words, "Thus bland-beseeching, who could e'er withstand?