Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/167

 The Arrow was alredie gone so farre, that backe agen He could not call it. Neerthelesse the wound was verie small Of which he dide, for why his heart it did but lightly gall. The rumor of the mischiefe selfe, and mone of people, and The weeping of hir servants gave the mother t'understand The sodaine stroke of this mischaunce. She wondred verie much And stormed also that the Gods were able to doe such A deede, or durst attempt it, yea she thought it more than right That any of them over hir should have so mickle might. Amphion had fordone himselfe alreadie with a knife, And ended all his sorrowes quite togither with his life. Alas, alas how greatly doth this Niobe differ here From tother Niobe who alate disdaining any Pere Did from Latonas Altars drive hir folke, and through the towne With haultie looke and stately gate went pranking up and downe, Then spighted at among hir owne, but piteous now to those: That heretofore for hir deserts had bene hir greatest foes. She falleth on the corses colde, and taking no regard, Bestowde hir kysses on hir sonnes as whome she afterwarde Did know she never more shoulde kisse. From whome she lifting thoe Hir blew and broosed armes to heaven sayd: O thou cruell foe Latona, feede, yea feede thy selfe I say upon my woe And overgorge thy stomacke, yea and glut thy cruell hart With these my present painefull pangs of bitter griping smart. In corses seven I seven times deade am caried to my grave. Rejoyce thou foe and triumph now in that thou seemste to have The upper hande. What? upper hand? no no it is not so. As wretched as my case doth seeme, yet have I left me mo Than thou for all thy happinesse canst of thine owne account. Even after all these corses yet I still doe thee surmount. Upon the ende of these same wordes the twanging of the string In letting of the Arrow flie was clearly heard: which thing Made every one save Niobe afraide. Hir heart was so With sorrowe hardned, that she grew more bolde. Hir daughters tho Were standing all with mourning weede and hanging haire before Their brothers coffins. One of them in pulling from the sore An Arrow sticking in his heart, sanke downe upon hir brother