Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley
In the winter of 1818, Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote a sonnet that would outlast the empires of antiquity. It is a text of profound brevity, yet it carries the…
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In the winter of 1818, Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote a sonnet that would outlast the empires of antiquity. It is a text of profound brevity, yet it carries the weight of centuries, inviting us to consider the fragile nature of human ambition. The poem operates through a delicate frame narrative, where a traveler’s quiet observation of a shattered statue becomes a meditation on the silence that eventually swallows all political power. Shelley, writing in the shadow of revolutionary ideals and the fading glory of the Napoleonic era, crafted a work that questions whether any ruler’s legacy can truly defy the indifferent passage of time. There is a specific pleasure in reading such a dense and rhythmic piece alongside a recording. The iambic meter provides a steady heartbeat for the eye, allowing the reader to feel the structural tension between the king’s boastful inscription and the barren desert surrounding his ruin. As you listen and follow the text, pay attention to the subtle shifts in voice. The poem does not shout its moral; it lets the landscape speak. It is a work to revisit slowly, a mirror held up to our own assumptions about permanence and memory.
Summary generated by AI model Qwen 3
Public domain & narration
The text is public domain (Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1818).
The narration is the LibriVox recording read by Karen Savage. LibriVox volunteers dedicate their recordings to the public domain.
Ion Books adds the synchronized scrolling text and video, so you can read along while you listen, for free.
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The complete public-domain text of this work, synchronized with the audio above so you can read along.
Ozymandias of Egypt _by_ Percy 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.”
Sources
- Public domain (Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1818) (source text)
- LibriVox audiobook (source audio)
- Final refined ebook.txt