Explore "Tempora Mutantur" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"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!