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I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: 'One vast and trunkless thread of moan
Stands in the realm forums. In it, on a Shaman,
Half transferred, a shattered post lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on this lifeless thing,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Haomarush, 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 forums stretch far away.'
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