“The world is dull,” I cried in my despair:
“Its myths and fables are no longer fair.
“Roll back thy centuries, O Father Time.
To Greece transport me in her golden prime.
“Give back the beautiful old Gods again —
The sportive Nymphs, the Dryad's jocund train,
“Pan piping on his reeds, the Naiades,
The Sirens singing by the sleepy seas.
“Nay, show me but a Gorgon and I'll dare
To lift mine eyes to her peculiar hair
“( The fatal horrors of her snaky pate,
That stiffen men into a stony state )
“And die — erecting, as my soul goes hence,
A statue of myself, without expense.”
Straight as I spoke I heard the voice of Fate:
“Look up, my lad, the Gorgon sisters wait.”
Raising my eyes, I saw Medusa stand,
Stheno, Euryale, on either hand.
I gazed unpetrified and unappalled —
The girls had aged and were entirely bald!