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| Leto (aka Latona) with the infants Apollo and Artemis,by Francesco Pozzi (1824) |
Sent by his father who:
"Had charged me to retrieve some special steers
And given me a Lycean for guide,
With him I traversed those far pasture-lands,
When, standing in the middle of a mere (lake),
And black with ash of sacrifice, behold
An ancient altar, ringed with waving reeds.
Inquiring as to who build the altar:
"no mountain deity
Enjoys this altar; it is claimed by her
Whom the queen of heaven barred from the world,
Whom drifting Delos scarcely dared consent
To harbour, when that island swam the sea.
Latona (Leto) in spite of Juno (Hera) bore her twins;
If you are wondering how Leto got her bad temper, that story unfolds here.
Recall, if you will, Artemis & Apollo, the children of Leto, methodically
kill Niobe's children.
Latona and her babies (both divine) got thirsty; spied a mere
The flaming sun beat down upon the fields;
The goddess, tired by her long toil, was parched
With thirst, so hot heaven's torrid star; the babes
Had drained their mother's milk and cried for more.
She chanced to see, down in the dale below,
A mere of no great size. Some farmfolk there
Were gathering reeds and leafy osiers
And sedge that marshes love. Reaching the edge,
Latona knelt upon the ground to drink
The cooling water, knelt to drink her fill.
The group of yokels stopped her. 'Why?' said she,
'Why keep me from the water? Everyone Has right to water.*
Nature never made The sunshine private nor the air we breathe,
Nor limpid water. No! A common right I've reached.
Even so I ask, I humbly ask, Please give it me.
The twins stretched out their arms. Whom could those words,
Those gentle words the goddess spoke, not touch?
Despite her pleas they stopped her, adding threats
Unless she went away, and insults too.
And, not content with that, they even stirred
The pond with hands and feet, and on the bottom
Kicked the soft mud about* in spiteful leaps.
Her thirst gave way to anger. Of such boors
She'd ask no favour now, nor speak again
In tones beneath a goddess. Raising her hands
To heaven, 'Live in that pool of yours', she cried,
'For evermore!' And what she wished came true.
They love to live in water....
The peasants are turned to Frogs.
Their voice is harsh, their throats are puffed and swollen;
Their endless insults stretch their big mouths wide;
Their loathsome heads protrude, their necks seem lost;
Their backs are green; their bodies' biggest part,
Their bellies, white; and in the muddy pond
They leap and splash about—new-fangled frogs."
And given me a Lycean for guide,
With him I traversed those far pasture-lands,
When, standing in the middle of a mere (lake),
And black with ash of sacrifice, behold
An ancient altar, ringed with waving reeds.
Inquiring as to who build the altar:
"no mountain deity
Enjoys this altar; it is claimed by her
Whom the queen of heaven barred from the world,
Whom drifting Delos scarcely dared consent
To harbour, when that island swam the sea.
Latona (Leto) in spite of Juno (Hera) bore her twins;
If you are wondering how Leto got her bad temper, that story unfolds here.
Recall, if you will, Artemis & Apollo, the children of Leto, methodically
kill Niobe's children.
Latona and her babies (both divine) got thirsty; spied a mere
The flaming sun beat down upon the fields;
The goddess, tired by her long toil, was parched
With thirst, so hot heaven's torrid star; the babes
Had drained their mother's milk and cried for more.
She chanced to see, down in the dale below,
A mere of no great size. Some farmfolk there
Were gathering reeds and leafy osiers
And sedge that marshes love. Reaching the edge,
Latona knelt upon the ground to drink
The cooling water, knelt to drink her fill.
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| Latona and the Lycian Peasants, ca. 1605, by Jan Brueghel the Elder |
The group of yokels stopped her. 'Why?' said she,
'Why keep me from the water? Everyone Has right to water.*
Nature never made The sunshine private nor the air we breathe,
Nor limpid water. No! A common right I've reached.
Even so I ask, I humbly ask, Please give it me.
The twins stretched out their arms. Whom could those words,
Those gentle words the goddess spoke, not touch?
Despite her pleas they stopped her, adding threats
Unless she went away, and insults too.
And, not content with that, they even stirred
The pond with hands and feet, and on the bottom
Kicked the soft mud about* in spiteful leaps.
Her thirst gave way to anger. Of such boors
She'd ask no favour now, nor speak again
In tones beneath a goddess. Raising her hands
To heaven, 'Live in that pool of yours', she cried,
'For evermore!' And what she wished came true.
They love to live in water....
The peasants are turned to Frogs.
Their voice is harsh, their throats are puffed and swollen;
Their endless insults stretch their big mouths wide;
Their loathsome heads protrude, their necks seem lost;
Their backs are green; their bodies' biggest part,
Their bellies, white; and in the muddy pond
They leap and splash about—new-fangled frogs."
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