When Niobe was acquainted with what had taken place, she was indignant that the gods had dared, and amazed that they had been able to do it. Her husband Amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. But the mother knelt over the lifeless bodies and kissed them. Raising her pallid arms to heaven, "Cruel Latona," said she, "satiate thy hard heart while I follow to the grave my seven sons. Yet where is thy triumph? Bereaved as I am, I am still richer than thou, my conqueror." Scarce had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except Niobe's alone. She was brave from excess of grief. Her daughters stood in garments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. One after another they fell, struck by arrows, beside the corpses that they were bewailing. Only one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms and covered, as it were, with her whole body. "Spare me one and that the youngest! Oh, spare me one of so many!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. Desolate she sat among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. The breeze moved not her hair, no color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign of life about her. Her very tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. Her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. She was changed to stone, within and without. Yet tears continued to flow; and borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock from which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief.[97] [Illustration: FIG. 62. NIOBE AND HER YOUNGEST DAUGHTER] Amid nine daughters slain by Artemis Stood Niobe; she rais'd her head above Those beauteous forms which had brought down the scath Whence all nine fell, rais'd it, and stood erect, And thus bespake the goddess enthroned on high: "Thou heardest, Artemis, my daily prayer That thou wouldst guide these children in the pass Of virtue, through the tangling wilds of youth, And thou didst ever guide them: was it just To smite them for a beauty such as thine? Deserv'd they death because thy grace appear'd In ever modest motion? 'twas thy gift, The richest gift that youth from heaven receives. True, I did boldly say they might compare Even with thyself in virgin purity: May not a mother in her pride repeat What every mortal said? One prayer remains For me to offer yet. Thy quiver holds More than nine arrows: bend thy bow; aim here! I see, I see it glimmering through a cloud. Artemis, thou at length art merciful: My children will not hear the fatal twang."[98]