“Then keep thy seat for ever,” cries the god, And touch’d the door, wide opening to his rod. Fain would she rise and stop him, but she found Her trunk too heavy to forsake the ground; Her joints are all benumb’d, her hands are pale, And marble now appears in every nail. As when a cancer in the body feeds, And gradual death from limb to limb proceeds, So does the chillness to each vital part Spread by degrees, and creeps into her heart, Till hardening everywhere, and speechless grown, She sits unmoved, and freezes to a stone. But still her envious hue and sullen mien Are in ’he sedentary figure seen.