BrahminBoss
Brownmaxxing
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2022
- Posts
- 56,857
- Reputation
- 78,519
I met a traveller from poojet land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the Ganges banks . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose proud cheekbones,
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 bones that mogged;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Salludon, Sultan of Sultans;
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.
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the Ganges banks . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose proud cheekbones,
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 bones that mogged;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Salludon, Sultan of Sultans;
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.
