by Perch Bysshe Shelley
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.'
Draft copy of the poem c 1817
Close reading of the poem by Dr Octavia Cox
Other tutorials are available online - This is a very popular poem on many English Literature syllabuses...
Read by Sir John Gielgud
Read by Vincent Price
Read by Spokenverse (Tom O'Bedlam)