A Transformation

From the Latin by Henry King From “The Metamorphoses” WEARY and travel-worn,—her lips unwet With water,—at a straw-thatched cottage door The wanderer knocked. An ancient crone came forth And saw her need, and hospitable brought Her bowl of barley-broth, and bade her drink. Thankful she raised it; but a graceless boy And impudent stood by, and, ere the half Was drained, “Ha! ha! see how the glutton swills!” With insolent jeer he cried. The goddess’s ire Was roused; and as he spoke, what liquor yet The bowl retained, full in his face she dashed. His cheeks broke out in blotches; what were arms Turned legs, and from the shortened trunk a tail Tapered behind. Small mischief evermore Might that small body work: the lizard’s self Was larger now than he. With terror shrieked The crone, and weeping, stooped her altered child To raise; the little monster fled her grasp And wriggled into hiding. Still his name His nature tells, and, from the star-light spots That mark him, known as Stellio, crawls the Newt.