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Percy Bysshe Shelleys Ozymandias Horace Smiths Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, The only shadow that the Desert knows:
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, "I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, "The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read "The wonders of my hand." The City's gone,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: The site of this forgotten Babylon.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: We wonder,and some Hunter may express
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess
The lone and level sands stretch far away.[4] What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.[9]

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