The King of Kings Struts and Frets His Time Upon The Stage Then Is Heard No More

                           `My name is Muammar, King of Kings:
                      Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'

         
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: " A headless Lion
Roars in the desert. Near him, 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 Muammar, 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 ... So is it becoming
Thanks Shakespear and Shelly