text:  'Twas not the ninefold chain of waves that bound Thy daughter Ceres to the Stygian river-- She pluck'd the fruit of the unholy ground And so--was Hell's for ever! 3 The weavers of the web--the Fates--but sway The matter and the things of clay; Safe from each change that Time to matter gives Nature's blest playmate free at will to stray With Gods a god amidst the fields of Day The FORM the ARCHETYPE [8] serenely lives