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and still another died upon her corse,
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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.
All men and women, after this event,
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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.
