I met a traveller from an antique land, | a | ||||
Who said — “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone | b | ||||
Stand in the desart....Near them, on the sand, | a | ||||
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, | b | ||||
5 |
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, | a | |||
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read | c | ||||
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, | d | ||||
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; | c | ||||
And on the pedestal, these words appear: | e | ||||
10 |
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings, | d | |||
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! | e | ||||
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay | f | ||||
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare | e | ||||
The lone and level sands stretch far away.” | f | ||||
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