My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear:

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,

"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the. . . . Near them, on the sand,