“Two vast and trunkless legs of stoneStand in the desret. Near them on the sand,Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frownAnd wrinkled lip and sneer of cold commandTell that its sculptor well those passions readWhich 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 Cheysuli, King of Kings:Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’
Alerter le modérateur