Meanwhile, surrounded with a courtly guard, The royal Niobe in state appear’d, Attired in robes embroider’d o’er with gold, And mad with rage, yet lovely to behold; Her comely tresses, trembling as she stood, Down her fine neck with easy motion flow’d; Then, darting round a proud, disdainful look, In haughty tone her hasty passion broke, And thus began: “What madness this, to court A goddess, founded merely on report? Dare ye a poor pretended power invoke, While yet no altars to my godhead smoke? Mine, whose immediate lineage stands confess’d From Tantalus, the only mortal guest That e’er the gods admitted to their feast. A sister of the Pleiads gave me birth; And Atlas, mightiest mountain upon earth, Who bears the globe of all the stars above, My grandsire was; and Atlas sprung from Jove. The Theban towns my majesty adore; And neighb’ring Phrygia trembles at my power; Raised by my husband’s lute, with turrets crown’d, Our lofty city stands secured around; Within my court, where’er I turn my eyes,