I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless
The hand that mocked them and the heart
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley