-I met a traveller from an antique land,
-Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
-Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
-Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
-And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
-Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
-Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
-The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
-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 bare
-The lone and level sands stretch far away.
(Shelly, circa 1800's)