Van der Sandt
Wow but these people STUMP all over the place
Going to Abu Dhabi
I've signed the contract. Please oh please dont let me have made a mistake.
Either Or
M told me today that if I go to abu Dhabi, he doubts he will be able to wait for me. That he has been thinking, and whenever someone goes away, the couple breaks up. So he has been hanging on too much. And he cant be the only one fighting for us. He said he was done fighting and my decision is my own.
Tonight he told me to remember that while I think that untill I have made a decision, I have both worlds, to him it feels like he has nothing. He said every night he goes to sleep, wondering if he'll have a girlfriend the next day.
I told him I dont think I can stay. What would I be staying for?
Cool word for city in the sky: errorists
(from the xbox game remember me)
"You will recognize your own path
when you come upon it, because you
will suddenly have all the energy and
imagination you will ever need."
Ozymandias - Notes and analysis
Please note: all information gathered from other sources. Body of content taken from http://www.shmoop.com/ozymandias/
Contents
Ozymandias
In
A Nutshell
Late in
1817 Percy Shelley and his friend Horace Smith decided to have a
sonnet competition – that's right folks: a sonnet competition! For the subject
of their sonnets, Shelley and Smith chose a partially-destroyed statue of Ramses II ("Ozymandias") that was making its
way to London from Egypt, finally arriving there sometime early in the year
1818. In the 1790's Napoleon Bonaparte had tried to get his hands on the statue, but
was unable to remove it from Egypt. That's partly because it weighs almost 7.5
tons. Shelley, like Napoleon, was fascinated by this giant statue. Here's a picture of it.
Shelley published his poem in January of 1818 in The Examiner, a periodical run by his other friend Leigh Hunt (pronounced "Lee"). Smith published his poem less than a month later, with a title almost as long as the poem itself: "On A Stupendous Leg of Granite, Discovered Standing by Itself in the Deserts of Egypt, with the Inscription Inserted Below." You can take a look at Smith's poem here.
While Shelley has a reputation for radical and experimental poetry, "Ozymandias" is a pretty "tame" poem compared to many of his other works; it is written in a well-known and widely-used form – a fourteen-line sonnet – and doesn't say anything too offensive like "We should all be atheists" (Shelley was expelled from Oxford for writing a pamphlet advocating just this).
Shelley published his poem in January of 1818 in The Examiner, a periodical run by his other friend Leigh Hunt (pronounced "Lee"). Smith published his poem less than a month later, with a title almost as long as the poem itself: "On A Stupendous Leg of Granite, Discovered Standing by Itself in the Deserts of Egypt, with the Inscription Inserted Below." You can take a look at Smith's poem here.
While Shelley has a reputation for radical and experimental poetry, "Ozymandias" is a pretty "tame" poem compared to many of his other works; it is written in a well-known and widely-used form – a fourteen-line sonnet – and doesn't say anything too offensive like "We should all be atheists" (Shelley was expelled from Oxford for writing a pamphlet advocating just this).
Why Should I Care?
Why read
this poem? As a sonnet, it has only fourteen lines, but in this limited space,
Shelley explores a number of issues with enduring relevance.
"Ozymandias" explores the question of what happens to tyrant kings,
and to despotic world leaders more generally. As we all know, nothing lasts
forever; that means even the very worst political leaders – no matter how much
they boast – all die at some point. If Shelley were writing this poem now, he might
take as his subject the famous statue of Saddam Hussein that was pulled down after the dictator was
overthrown. Like the fallen statue in Baghdad, the broken-down statue of
Ozymandias in Shelley's poem points to the short-lived nature of political
regimes and tyrannical power.
But, Shelley doesn't just come out and say "nothing lasts forever" and "there is always hope." He writes a sonnet with a really cool rhyme scheme. Just try reading the poem out loud, and you'll see what we mean.
But, Shelley doesn't just come out and say "nothing lasts forever" and "there is always hope." He writes a sonnet with a really cool rhyme scheme. Just try reading the poem out loud, and you'll see what we mean.
Ozymandias: Text of the Poem
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 shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd 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.
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd 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.
Ozymandias Summary
The
speaker describes a meeting with someone who has traveled to a place where
ancient civilizations once existed. We know from the title that he’s talking
about Egypt. The traveler told the speaker a story about an old, fragmented
statue in the middle of the desert. The statue is broken apart, but you can
still make out the face of a person. The face looks stern and powerful, like a
ruler. The sculptor did a good job at expressing the ruler’s personality. The
ruler was a wicked guy, but he took care of his people.
On the pedestal near the face, the traveler reads an inscription in which the ruler Ozymandias tells anyone who might happen to pass by, basically, “Look around and see how awesome I am!” But there is no other evidence of his awesomeness in the vicinity of his giant, broken statue. There is just a lot of sand, as far as the eye can see. The traveler ends his story.
On the pedestal near the face, the traveler reads an inscription in which the ruler Ozymandias tells anyone who might happen to pass by, basically, “Look around and see how awesome I am!” But there is no other evidence of his awesomeness in the vicinity of his giant, broken statue. There is just a lot of sand, as far as the eye can see. The traveler ends his story.
Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem
line-by-line.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said...
Who said...
- The
poem begins immediately with an encounter between the speaker and a
traveler that comes from an "antique land."
- We're
not sure about this traveler. He could be a native of this
"antique" land, or just a tourist returning from his latest
trip.
- We
don't know where this encounter is taking place; is it on the highway? On
a road somewhere? In London? Maybe if we keep reading we'll find out.
- "Antique"
means something really old, like that couch at your grandmother's or the
bunny ears on top of your television. The traveler could be coming from a
place that is ancient, almost as if he were time-traveling. Or he could
just be coming from a place that has an older history, like Greece, Rome,
or ancient Egypt.
…Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies…
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies…
- Here
the traveler begins his speech. He tells the speaker about a pair of stone
legs that are somehow still standing in the middle of the desert.
- Those
legs are huge ("vast") and "trunkless."
"Trunkless" means "without a torso," so it's a pair of
legs with no body.
- "Visage"
means face; a face implies a head, so we are being told that the head
belonging to this sculpture is partially buried in the sand, near the
legs. It is also, like the whole statue, "shatter'd."
- The
image described is very strange: a pair of legs, with a head nearby. What
happened to the rest of the statue? War? Natural disaster? Napoleon?
…whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
- The
traveler now gives a fuller description of the "shatter'd
visage" lying in the sand.
- As
it turns out, the "visage" (or face) isn't completely
"shatter'd" because one can still see a "frown," a
"wrinkled lip," and a "sneer."
- We
still don't know whom this statue represents, but we do know that he was
upset about something because he's frowning and sneering. Maybe he thinks
that the sneering makes him look powerful. It conveys the "cold
command" of an absolute ruler. He can do what he wants without
thinking of other people. Heck, he probably commanded the sculptor to make
the statue.
- After
briefly describing the "visage" (3), the lines shift our
attention away from the statue to the guy who made the statue, the
"sculptor."
- "Read"
here means "understood" or "copied" well. The sculptor
was pretty good because he was able to understand and reproduce exactly –
to "read" – the facial features and "passions" of our
angry man. The sculptor might even grasp things about the ruler that the
ruler himself doesn't understand.
- The
poem suggests that artists have the ability to perceive the true nature of
other people in the present and not just in the past, with the benefit of
hindsight.
- "Tell"
is a cool word. The statue doesn't literally speak, but the frown and
sneer are so perfectly rendered that they give the impression that they
are speaking, telling us how great the sculptor was.
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these
lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed
- The
poem now tells us more about the "passions" of the face depicted
on the statue.
- Weirdly,
the "passions" still survive because they are "stamp'd on
these lifeless things." The "lifeless things" are the
fragments of the statue in the desert.
- "Stamp'd"
doesn't refer to an ink-stamp, but rather to the artistic process by which
the sculptor inscribed the "frown" and "sneer" on his
statue's face. The word could also make you think of the ruler's power.
Had he wanted to, he could have stamped out any of his subjects who
offended him.
- "Mock'd"
has two meanings in this passage. It means both "made fun of"
and "copied," or "imitated." "Hand" is a
stand-in for the sculptor. So the sculptor both belittled and copied this
man's passions.
- "The
heart that fed" is a tricky phrase; it refers to the heart that
"fed" or nourished the passions of the man that the statue
represents. But if you think these lines are unclear, you're right. Even
scholars have trouble figuring out what they mean.
- The
passions not only "survive"; they have also outlived both the
sculptor ("the hand that mock'd") and the heart of the man
depicted by the statue.
- Note
the contrast between life and death. The fragments of the statue are
called "lifeless things," the sculptor is dead, and so is the
statue's subject. The "passions" though, still
"survive."
Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem
line-by-line.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
- The
traveler tells us about an inscription at the foot of statue which finally
reveals to us whom this statue represents.
- It
is "Ozymandias," the figure named in the title.
"Ozymandias" was one of several Greek names for Ramses II of
Egypt. For more, see "What's Up with the Title."
- The
inscription suggests that Ozymandias is arrogant, or at least that he has
grand ideas about his own power: he calls himself the "king of
kings."
- Ozymandias
also brags about his "works." Maybe he's referring to the famous
temples he constructed at Abu Simbel or Thebes. He could also be calling
attention to the numerous colossal statues of him, such as the one
described in this poem.
- Ozymandias's
speech is ambiguous here. On the one hand he tells the "mighty"
to "despair" because their achievements will never equal his
"works." On the other hand, he might be telling the
"mighty" to "despair" as a kind of warning, saying
something like "Don't get your hopes up guys because your statues,
works, political regimes, etc. will eventually be destroyed or fade away,
with nothing to recall them but a dilapidated statue half-buried in the
sand."
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
- After
the traveler recites the inscription, he resumes his description of the
statue and the surrounding area.
- We
are reminded again that "nothing" remains besides the head,
legs, and pedestal; as if we didn't know the statue has been destroyed,
the traveler tells us again that it is a "colossal wreck."
- The
very size of the statue – "colossal" – emphasizes the scope of
Ozymandias's ambitions as well; it's almost as if because he thinks he's
the "king of kings" (10), he also has to build a really big
statue.
- To
complement the "decay" of the statue, the traveler describes a
desolate and barren desert that seems to go on forever: the "sands
stretch far away."
- The
statue is the only thing in this barren, flat desert. There was probably
once a temple or something nearby, but it's long gone. The
"sands" are "lone," which means whatever else used to
be "beside" the statue has been destroyed or buried.
- Several
words in these lines start with the same letter; for example
"besides," "boundless," and "bare";
"remains" and "round"; "lone" and
"level"; "sands" and "stretch." Using
multiple words with the same initial letter is called alliteration. For
more, see "Sound Check."
Ozymandias Analysis
Ozymandias Symbolism, Imagery
& Wordplay
Symbol Analysis
Because the poem is inspired by a statue of Ramses
II, we shouldn't be surprised to find so many references to this statue and to
sculpting more generally. The "colossal" size of the statue is a
symbol of Ramses's lofty self-promotion royal ambition. But statues and
sculpture aren't all bad in this poem; they are also a vehicle for the poet to
explore questions about the longevity of art, and its ability to capture
"passions" (6) in a "lifeless" (7) medium like stones (or
painting or even poetry).
·
Line 2: The traveler describes two "legs of stone" with no
torso, our first indication that the statue is partly destroyed.
·
Line 4: The head of the statue is "shatter'd" and partially
buried in the sand. "Visage" is a stand-in for the statue's head.
(The use of one part of any object or entity to describe the whole is called
synecdoche.)
·
Line 6-7: The sculptor was pretty good at representing Ramses's
"passions" in the statue, which are "stamp'd" or engraved
in stone. Even though the stones are "lifeless," they paradoxically
give life to the "passions" that still "survive." There are
three words in these two lines that start with "s"; the use of
multiple words starting with the same letter is called alliteration.
·
Line 8: The "hand that mock'd" is another reference to the
sculptor and the work of imitation he performs. "Hand" is another
example of synecdoche, in which a part (the hand) stands in for the whole (the
sculptor).
·
Line 9: Describes the base of the statue and the boast engraved on it.
·
Line 11: The inscription refers to "works," which might be a
reference to other statues, works of art, or monuments commissioned by
Ozymandias. This line is ambiguous; Ozymandias could be telling the mighty to
despair because their works will never be as good as his or he could be telling
them to despair because their works will all eventually crumble just like his.
Ozymandias clearly doesn't intend this second meaning, but it's there whether
he wants it or not. That's called dramatic irony.
·
Line 13: The poem again reminds us that there is a huge statue in the
desert that is now a "colossal wreck."
Symbol Analysis
The statue that inspired the poem was partially
destroyed, and the poem frequently reminds us that the statue is in ruins. The
dilapidated state of the statue symbolizes not only the erosive processes of
time, but also the transience of political leaders and regimes.
- Line
2: The "legs" of the statue don't have a torso ("trunkless").
- Line
4: The statue's head is "shatter'd" and partly buried in the
sand.
- Line
11: The inscription implores the viewer to "look on"
Ozymandias's "works." One of those "works" is the
statue described in the poem, and it's only a pair of legs and a
"shatter'd" head.
- Line
12-13: The statue is described as in a state of "decay" and as a
"colossal wreck."
- Line
13-14: We're assuming this statue wasn't always in the middle of nowhere –
there must have been some kind of temple or pyramid nearby. Not anymore;
the area around the statue is "bare" and the desert is
"lone," or empty. The traveler calls our attention to the
barrenness of the desert through the extensive use of alliteration
(beginning multiple words with the same letter): "boundless and bare,"
"lone and level," "sands stretch."
Symbol Analysis
There is a lot of death in this poem; the figure
represented in the statue is dead, along with the civilization to which he
belonged. The statue is destroyed, and so it too is, in some sense, dead. And
yet amidst all the death, there are several images of life that give the poem a
sense of balance, however slight.
- Lines
1-2: Most of the poem describes a statue, but these first two lines
describe an encounter between two living people, the speaker and a
"traveler from an antique land."
- Line
6-7: The description of the "sculptor" making a statue
introduces another living figure into the poem, as does the reference to
the "passions" of Ozymandias. Furthermore, even though the
sculpture is "lifeless," the passions still "survive."
Symbol Analysis
While most of the poem describes a statue, the
traveler makes a point of telling us that Ozymandias's "passions"
still survive: they are "stamp'd" on the statue, giving all those who
view the statue a sense of what Ozymandias's disposition was like, or at least
what it was like when the statue was made.
- Lines
4-5: The poem describes the features on the face of the statue and, by
extension, the features of Ozymandias. He must have been angry about
something because his face has a "sneer," a "frown,"
and a "wrinkled lip."
- Line
6: We are told that the sculptor "well those passions read,"
that he was somehow able to capture them fairly well in his statue.
- Line
8: The "heart" is the organ most often linked to feelings and
passions; it "fed" the passions depicted in the statue. Because
the heart didn't literally "feed" the passions, "fed"
here is a metaphor.
Ozymandias: Rhyme, Form &
Meter
We’ll
show you the poem’s blueprints, and we’ll listen for the music behind the
words.
Sonnet in Pentameter
"Ozymandias"
takes the form of a sonnet in iambic pentameter. A sonnet is a fourteen-line
poem, whose ideal form is often attributed to the great Italian poet Petrarch.
The Petrarchan sonnet is structured as an octave (8 lines) and a sestet (6
lines). The octave often proposes a problem or concern that the sestet resolves
or otherwise engages. The ninth line – the first line of the sestet – marks a
shift in the direction of the poem and is frequently called the "turn"
or, for you Italian scholars, the volta.
While the rhyme scheme of the octave is ABBA ABBA, the rhyme scheme of the
sestet is more flexible; two of the most common are CDCDCD and CDECDE.
The other major sonnet form is the Shakespearean or English sonnet; it too has fourteen lines, but is structured as a series of three quatrains (of four lines each) and a concluding couplet (consisting of two consecutive rhyming lines). The Shakespearean sonnet is in iambic pentameter and follows the rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.
Shelley's sonnet is a strange mixture of these two forms. It is Petrarchan in that the poem is structured as a group of eight lines (octave) and a group of six lines (the sestet). The rhyme scheme is initially Shakespearean, as the first four lines rhyme ABAB. But then the poem gets strange: at lines 5-8 the rhyme scheme is ACDC, rather than the expected CDCD. For lines 9-12, the rhyme scheme is EDEF, rather than EFEF. Finally, instead of a concluding couplet we get another EF group. The entire rhyme scheme can be schematized as follows: ABABACDCEDEFEF.
The poem is written in pentameter, meaning there are five (penta-) groups of two syllables in each line. While you've probably heard of iambic pentameter, Shelley's poem makes it really hard to use that designation. Iambic pentameter means that each line contains five feet or groups, each of which contains an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable, as in this line:
half-sunk, a shatt-er'd vis-age lies, whose b>frown (4)
Many of the lines in the poem, however, refuse to conform to this pattern. Take line 12 for example:
No-thing be-side re-mains: round the de-cay
The line begins with a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable; this is called a trochee, and it's the reverse of an iamb. After the initial trochee, we get two iambs, but then we go back to a trochee with "round the," finally ending with an iamb; there's no name for this jumping around! This refusal to conform to any specific meter is evident throughout the poem, and makes it difficult to classify with a simple formula like iambic pentameter.
The other major sonnet form is the Shakespearean or English sonnet; it too has fourteen lines, but is structured as a series of three quatrains (of four lines each) and a concluding couplet (consisting of two consecutive rhyming lines). The Shakespearean sonnet is in iambic pentameter and follows the rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.
Shelley's sonnet is a strange mixture of these two forms. It is Petrarchan in that the poem is structured as a group of eight lines (octave) and a group of six lines (the sestet). The rhyme scheme is initially Shakespearean, as the first four lines rhyme ABAB. But then the poem gets strange: at lines 5-8 the rhyme scheme is ACDC, rather than the expected CDCD. For lines 9-12, the rhyme scheme is EDEF, rather than EFEF. Finally, instead of a concluding couplet we get another EF group. The entire rhyme scheme can be schematized as follows: ABABACDCEDEFEF.
The poem is written in pentameter, meaning there are five (penta-) groups of two syllables in each line. While you've probably heard of iambic pentameter, Shelley's poem makes it really hard to use that designation. Iambic pentameter means that each line contains five feet or groups, each of which contains an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable, as in this line:
half-sunk, a shatt-er'd vis-age lies, whose b>frown (4)
Many of the lines in the poem, however, refuse to conform to this pattern. Take line 12 for example:
No-thing be-side re-mains: round the de-cay
The line begins with a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable; this is called a trochee, and it's the reverse of an iamb. After the initial trochee, we get two iambs, but then we go back to a trochee with "round the," finally ending with an iamb; there's no name for this jumping around! This refusal to conform to any specific meter is evident throughout the poem, and makes it difficult to classify with a simple formula like iambic pentameter.
Speaker Point of View
Who
is the speaker, can she or he read minds, and, more importantly, can we trust
her or him?
There are
several different voices in this poem that put some distance between us and
Ozymandias. First there is the speaker of the poem, you know the guy who meets
the traveler from an "antique land." It's almost as if the speaker
has just stopped for the night at a hotel, or stepped into an unfamiliar bar,
and happens to bump into a well-traveled guy. The speaker doesn't hang around
very long before handing the microphone over to the traveler, whose voice
occupies the remainder of the poem. One can imagine a movie based on this
storyline: the speaker meets a strange guy who then narrates his experiences,
which make up the rest of the film.
We don't know a whole lot about this traveler; he could be a native of the "antique land" (1), a tourist who has visited it, or even a guy who just stepped out of a time machine. He seems like one of those guys you'd meet in a youth hostel who has all kinds of cool stories but no real place to call home other than the road; he is a "traveler" after all, and he clearly knows how to give a really dramatic description – just note the bleak picture that is painted of the "lone and level sands" stretching "far away" (14) to see what we mean.
Most of the poem consists of the traveler's description of the statue lying in the desert, except for the two lines in the middle where he tells us what the inscription on the statue says; and while the traveler speaks these lines, they really belong to Ozymandias, making him, in a sense, the third speaker in this polyphonic (or many-voiced) poem.
We don't know a whole lot about this traveler; he could be a native of the "antique land" (1), a tourist who has visited it, or even a guy who just stepped out of a time machine. He seems like one of those guys you'd meet in a youth hostel who has all kinds of cool stories but no real place to call home other than the road; he is a "traveler" after all, and he clearly knows how to give a really dramatic description – just note the bleak picture that is painted of the "lone and level sands" stretching "far away" (14) to see what we mean.
Most of the poem consists of the traveler's description of the statue lying in the desert, except for the two lines in the middle where he tells us what the inscription on the statue says; and while the traveler speaks these lines, they really belong to Ozymandias, making him, in a sense, the third speaker in this polyphonic (or many-voiced) poem.
Ozymandias Setting
Where
It All Goes Down
This poem
has several settings. It begins with a strange encounter between the speaker
and a traveler from an "antique land" (1). We have no idea where this
rendezvous takes place, which is very weird. It could be in the speaker's head,
in a dream, on the street, or in the desert; it sort of resembles something
that might occur in a youth hostel or a tavern in London. The first appearance
of Aragorn in theFellowship of the Ring might be a good comparison.
Shortly after this initial meeting we are whisked away to the sands of Egypt, or a barren desert that closely resembles it. And this desert isn't just barren; it's really barren. Other than the legs, pedestal, and head of the statue, there's only sand. No trace remains of the civilization or culture that spawned the statue. It's a lot like something you'd see inPlanet Earth: emptiness all around, a few sand-storms here, and that's about it. It reminds us of movies where people are stranded in the desert and eventually find a little oasis or the occasional tree, except that here we find a partially destroyed statue instead of a little pond.
Shortly after this initial meeting we are whisked away to the sands of Egypt, or a barren desert that closely resembles it. And this desert isn't just barren; it's really barren. Other than the legs, pedestal, and head of the statue, there's only sand. No trace remains of the civilization or culture that spawned the statue. It's a lot like something you'd see inPlanet Earth: emptiness all around, a few sand-storms here, and that's about it. It reminds us of movies where people are stranded in the desert and eventually find a little oasis or the occasional tree, except that here we find a partially destroyed statue instead of a little pond.
Sound Check
Read
this poem aloud. What do you hear?
"Ozymandias"
sounds a lot like the conclusion of a Shakespearean tragedy; the final lines of
the poem are especially reminiscent of something you might hear as the curtain
is about to fall at the end of the play, or as the credits are about to roll at
the end of a sad movie. The way in which the poem emphasizes destruction and
barrenness makes it read like something you'd hear at Ozymandias's funeral. The
last lines in particular call attention to the poem's themes in a really catchy
way (note all those memorable, alliterative phrases!), making the poem seem
very much like those last words you hear as you're about to leave the theater
What’s Up With the Title?
"Ozymandias"
is an ancient Greek name for Ramses
II of Egypt. It is actually a Greek version of the Egyptian phrase
"User-maat-Re," one of Ramses's Egyptian names. Why not just call the
poem "User-maat-Re," you might ask? Well, this is Shelley, who had
studied ancient Greek; it is therefore no surprise that he chooses to use the
Greek name "Ozymandias," rather than the Egyptian name.
Ramses II was one of Egypt's greatest pharaohs, and many of the most famous tourist sites in Egypt, including the temple of Abu Simbel and the Ramesseum in Thebes, were built or planned during his incredibly long tenure (he lived until he was 90!). He is known not only for his building program, but also for several ambitious foreign military campaigns and for his diplomacy, especially with the Hittites, another important ancient people.
Ramses II was one of Egypt's greatest pharaohs, and many of the most famous tourist sites in Egypt, including the temple of Abu Simbel and the Ramesseum in Thebes, were built or planned during his incredibly long tenure (he lived until he was 90!). He is known not only for his building program, but also for several ambitious foreign military campaigns and for his diplomacy, especially with the Hittites, another important ancient people.
Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Calling
Card
What
is the poet’s signature style?
Long, Complicated Sentences
Shelley
loved to write really long sentences, and this poem is no exception. The second
complete sentence, which begins in line 3, is a good example. The sentence has
a lot of separate clauses that resemble complicated Latin sentences from two
thousand years ago. The main clause is the statement that a "shatter'd
visage" lies in the sand near the legs; the rest of the sentence – you
know all that stuff about the "frown" and "sneer of cold
command" and how the sculptor was so good that the passions have outlived
both Ramses and the artist – is all extraneous information that merely adds to
or supplements the first assertion. This long, central sentence gives the poem
an epic feel, even within the confines of a decidedly un-epic poetic form, the
fourteen-line sonnet. Shelley always had grand ambitions.
Tough-O-Meter
We’ve
got your back. With the Tough-O-Meter, you’ll know whether to bring extra
layers or Swiss army knives as you summit the literary mountain. (10 =
Toughest)
(2) Sea Level
"Ozymandias"
is a relatively straightforward poem; there aren't many strange words, except
for "mock'd." At times the syntax can be a little tricky; for
example, the first eight lines are two sentences, the second of which has a lot
of clauses that have to be sifted through and assigned their proper function.
Other than that second sentence, though, the poem doesn't go much above sea
level, making it one of the more readable Shelley poems.
Ozymandias Trivia
Brain
Snacks: Tasty Tidbits of Knowledge
Napoleon
tried to steal the statue that inspired "Ozymandias" and left a hole
in its right side. (Source)
Shelley
was part of a larger group of friends that frequently engaged in sonnet-writing
contests. The members included Leigh Hunt and John Keats. (Source)
Shelley
used the pseudonym (fake name) "Gilrastes" when he published
"Ozymandias" in the Examiner.
(Source)
The
graphic novel and movie Watchmen features a superhero named Ozymandias.
Ozymandias Steaminess Rating
Exactly
how steamy is this poem?
G
This poem
doesn't really have much to do with sex.
When poets refer to other great works, people, and events, it’s usually
not accidental. Put on your super-sleuth hat and figure out why.
- Diodorus
Siculus, Historical Library Book 1, Chapter 4 (Lines
10-11)
- Ozymandias,
a.k.a. Ramses II of Egypt (Lines 10-11)
Ozymandias Themes
"Ozymandias" is obsessed with transience;
the very fact that the statue is a "colossal wreck" (13) says loudly
and clearly that some things just don't last forever. But the poem isn't just
about how really big statues eventually succumb to the ravages of time; the
statue is a symbol of Ozymandias's ambition, pride, and absolute power, and
thus the poem also implies that kingdoms and political regimes will eventually
crumble, leaving no trace of their existence except, perhaps, pathetic statues
that no longer even have torsos.
1. Do all political
regimes necessarily pass away? Are there some that just won't go away?
2. How does the poem
view the permanence of art? Do artistic "works" necessarily
"decay" like the statue of Ozymandias?
3. Is the poem's view of
transience and impermanence hopeful or despairing?
4. Are there any signs
that the poem laments the destruction of the statue and the loss of the
civilization that produced it?
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devil’s advocate.
Even though the poem is obsessed with transience
and impermanence, it also suggests that a work of art, however fragmentary,
leaves a record of what has passed away.
In the inscription on the pedestal Ozymandias calls
himself the "king of kings" while also implying that his
"works" – works of art like the statue, pyramids, that sort of thing
– are the best around (10). Ozymandias thinks pretty highly of himself and of
what he's achieved, both politically and artistically. The fact that he commissions
this "colossal" statue with "vast legs" points to his sense
of pride, while the statue's fragmentary state indicates the emptiness (at
least in the long term) of Ozymandias's boast.
1. The statue in the
poem sounds like a really cool work of art; isn't it to be expected that
Ozymandias would take pride in such an artistic wonder?
2. Is there any
indication that the sculptor takes pride in his work?
3. If Ozymandias was
pharaoh during a particularly prosperous period of Egyptian history, is it at
all possible that he really was the "king of kings"(10)? Could he
have been better than any other king around?
4. Does the poem suggest
that pride in itself is bad? Or is it just bad when indulged in by a tyrant
like Ozymandias?
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devil’s advocate.
Ozymandias's proud statement that he is the
"king of kings" aligns him with a number of power-hungry villains,
like the Biblical Satan, or even Sauron from Lord of the Rings.
"Ozymandias" was inspired by a statue,
and it's no surprise that art is one of this poem's themes. The traveler makes
a point of telling us that the statue was made by a really skilled sculptor,
and the poem as a whole explores the question of art's longevity. The statue is
in part a stand-in or substitute for all kinds of art (painting, poetry, etc.),
and the poem asks us to think not just about sculpture, but about the fate of
other arts as well.
1. If even a durable
statue like the one described in the poem eventually crumbles, what happens to
other kinds of art that use flimsier materials – like poetry and painting?
2. The traveler refers
to the destroyed statue as a heap of "lifeless things" (7). Is the statue
"lifeless" because it's in pieces, because it is
"trunkless" and headless and is thus no longer a complete body? Or is
it "lifeless" because it's made of something inorganic (stone)?
3. The sculptor is said
to have accurately rendered the passions of Ozymandias's face. Is the only way
to judge a work of art by how "real" it looks, by how much it
resembles that which it represents?
4. What kind of
connection exists between a work of art and the civilization or culture that
produced it? Can art tell us anything about the culture that produced it?
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devil’s advocate.
The sculptor is similar to the reader of the poem
because both engage in the processes of reading and interpretation.
"Ozymandias" describes a statue, and
statues are made from rocks and stones found in nature. While the poem explores
the way in which art necessarily involves some kind of engagement with the
natural world, it also thinks about how nature might fight back. The statue's
head is half-buried in the sand, after all, and we are left wondering what role
the erosive force of dust storms, wind, and rain played in its destruction.
1. Does all art necessarily
use materials from nature, like rocks, stones, and paper?
2. Besides getting its
raw materials (paper, rocks, stones) from nature, in what other ways does art
interact with the natural world?
3. Do you feel that
nature is punishing Ozymandias for his pride by destroying his statue? Why or
why not?
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devil’s advocate.
"Ozymandias" suggests that the
relationship between art and nature is a double-edged sword: while the natural
world furnishes the artist with raw materials, it also has the power to reclaim
those materials by later destroying the work of art.
Ozymandias Quotes
Find
quotes from this poem, with commentary from Shmoop. Pick a theme below to
begin.
Ozymandias Transience Quotes Page
1
How we cite
the quotes:
(line numbers)
(line numbers)
|
Quote
#1
I met a traveler from an
antique land (1)
|
The very
fact that the "land" is "antique" suggests that it is
outdated, kind of like dial-up internet. The speaker implies that the traveler
is coming from a place that is more primitive or older than the speaker's, a
place that used to be home to a civilization and culture that has passed away.
|
Quote
#2
…Two vast and trunkless
legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies (2-4) |
The statue
is on its last legs; it has no torso, and the surrounding desert is doing its
best to bury the "shatter'd" head. We are not told how the statue has
come to be in this state, though we might infer that since it is located in an
"antique land," perhaps it too has succumbed to the erosive force of
time, like a lot of antiquities. This ancient object, too, is about to vanish;
one can't help thinking that the legs will eventually suffer the same fate as
the "shatter'd visage."
|
Quote
#3
Nothing beside remains;
round the decay
of that colossal wreck (12-13) |
Not only
is most of the statue gone, but there isn't anything else around. The temples,
palaces and whatever else might have adorned this landscape have all
disappeared, leaving "nothing" but two legs and a head.
"Decay" is an important word here; it implies that the statue has
been slowly rotting or crumbling over a long period of time, and that it will
eventually be completely destroyed or buried. It also suggests that the statue
was once living, perhaps implying something about the status of art and its
eventual fate.
Ozymandias Pride Quotes Page 1
How we cite
the quotes:
(line numbers)
(line numbers)
|
Quote
#1
...whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command (4-5) |
We know
that later in the poem Ozymandias will brag about the greatness of his works,
but here he seems less than satisfied with something, as if he thinks his works
could be better. We can imagine the sculptor hammering away at the statue and
Ozymandias giving him a dirty look because something about it just isn't right.
Alternatively, perhaps Ozymandias was perpetually frowning because his empire
just wasn't good enough, or big enough.
|
Quote
#2
"My name is
Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair" (10) |
There is a
lot of arrogance in this statement, and it's almost as if he were saying that
his name means "king of kings." He brags about his "works"
(statues like the one described, pyramids, etc.) as well, telling the
"Mighty" to "despair" because their works will never be as
good or as his. Ironically, Ozymandias's works are nowhere to be seen – all
that's left is a barren desert and this broken statue. His pride is made to
look stupid because his "works" are all gone, except for this
fragmented statue that, quite literally, is on its last legs.
Ozymandias Art and Culture
Quotes Page 1
How we cite
the quotes:
(line numbers)
(line numbers)
|
Quote
#1
Two vast and trunkless
legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, half-sunk A shatter'd visage lies (2-4) |
These
lines describe a very strange image; just imagine two legs in the middle of the
desert, with a head partly submerged nearby. When we imagine a desert, we often
imagine a really hot place with lots of sand that is, appropriately, deserted.
The "culture" that has produced the "art" has disappeared
or, better yet, has sunk beneath the sand, just like the statue's head. The
partially-shrunken head is a symbol of a vanishing, "antique"
culture. And yet part of the statue is still "standing." It's hard to
account for this, but it could be because its "colossal" dimensions
make it hard to destroy, or because art somehow finds a way to persist.
|
Quote
#2
...whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things, The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed (4-7) |
These
lines suggest that good art has the ability to embody and preserve passions
over several thousand years; the statue is like a piece of fossilized amber,
but instead of a prehistoric fly, what remains are Ozymandias's passions, kept
neatly encased for later viewers. The preservation of the passions contrasts
with the dilapidated state of the statue. Even though the statue is dead, it
still possesses a strange life-preserving power; this is a bizarre state of
affairs indeed. It suggests that art is not useless decoration, but can in fact
play an important documentary role.
Ozymandias Man and the Natural
World Quotes Page 1
How we cite
the quotes:
(line numbers)
(line numbers)
|
Quote
#1
Two vast and trunkless
legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies (2-4) |
These
lines give us several images of nature: the "stone," the
"desert," and the "sand." The "stone" reminds us
that the statue is a product of nature in some sense; the way in which the legs
are standing in the sand suggests something similar, as if they were just
emerging from the sand or nature were giving birth to them.
"Half-sunk" calls to mind images of the sea: it's as if the head is
being reclaimed by an unforgiving ocean of sand. The materials used to make the
statue are slowly returning to the place from where they came, completing a
kind of natural cycle of life and death.
|
Quote
#2
those passions...
which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things (6-7) |
"Lifeless"
is an incredibly rich word in this passage. That the pieces of the statue are
now "lifeless" suggests that they were in fact once alive. Perhaps a
work of art is alive when it's complete or, rather, not in fragments like the
statue of Ozymandias. Or perhaps it has something to do with the role or
function of the work of art in a particular culture. Because the surrounding
temples and civilization have been destroyed, the statue no longer functions as
a tribute to, or symbol of, Ozymandias's political power; it is
"dead" because it is now an artistic curiosity, an object for
museum-goers to look at and poets to write about rather than a statue with a
specific function within a particular culture.
|
Quote
#3
…lone and level sands
stretch far away (14)
|
Nature has
the final victory in this poem: the statue is almost gone, having suffered the
same fate as the civilization that produced it. Ozymandias's empire once
"stretch[ed] far away," but now it is nature – embodied by the
"lone and level sands" – that extends its empire. Interestingly, the
sands are "lone" even though there is a statue still there, as if the
statue is so insignificant relative to nature that it is almost not worth
mentioning.
Bring on the tough stuff - there’s not just one right answer.
- Where
do you think the encounter between the speaker and the traveler takes
place? Is it on the street? Is it in the speaker's head? What does this
vagueness contribute to the poem?
- In
this poem three different people speak (the speaker, the traveler, and
Ozymandias). What do you make of this? Does it make the poem seem more
like a novel or a play, where different voices are permitted to speak?
- There's
a lot of alliteration in this poem. There's also plenty of rhyming. What
do you make of all this repetition? Does it suggest some kind of cyclical,
history-repeats-itself, idea?
- What
do you think Ozymandias would say if he could see what has happened to his
crumbling statue? Would he be humbled or would he find some other way to
boast?
- Are
there political leaders today that you consider to be similar to
Ozymandias, or is he a different case because he had absolute power? Which
leaders would you want to read this poem?
- Have
you ever had a strange encounter with somebody from another country? Did
it involve a tale about a destroyed statue or something similarly bizarre?
Contents
Ozymandias
In
A Nutshell
Late in
1817 Percy Shelley and his friend Horace Smith decided to have a
sonnet competition – that's right folks: a sonnet competition! For the subject
of their sonnets, Shelley and Smith chose a partially-destroyed statue of Ramses II ("Ozymandias") that was making its
way to London from Egypt, finally arriving there sometime early in the year
1818. In the 1790's Napoleon Bonaparte had tried to get his hands on the statue, but
was unable to remove it from Egypt. That's partly because it weighs almost 7.5
tons. Shelley, like Napoleon, was fascinated by this giant statue. Here's a picture of it.
Shelley published his poem in January of 1818 in The Examiner, a periodical run by his other friend Leigh Hunt (pronounced "Lee"). Smith published his poem less than a month later, with a title almost as long as the poem itself: "On A Stupendous Leg of Granite, Discovered Standing by Itself in the Deserts of Egypt, with the Inscription Inserted Below." You can take a look at Smith's poem here.
While Shelley has a reputation for radical and experimental poetry, "Ozymandias" is a pretty "tame" poem compared to many of his other works; it is written in a well-known and widely-used form – a fourteen-line sonnet – and doesn't say anything too offensive like "We should all be atheists" (Shelley was expelled from Oxford for writing a pamphlet advocating just this).
Shelley published his poem in January of 1818 in The Examiner, a periodical run by his other friend Leigh Hunt (pronounced "Lee"). Smith published his poem less than a month later, with a title almost as long as the poem itself: "On A Stupendous Leg of Granite, Discovered Standing by Itself in the Deserts of Egypt, with the Inscription Inserted Below." You can take a look at Smith's poem here.
While Shelley has a reputation for radical and experimental poetry, "Ozymandias" is a pretty "tame" poem compared to many of his other works; it is written in a well-known and widely-used form – a fourteen-line sonnet – and doesn't say anything too offensive like "We should all be atheists" (Shelley was expelled from Oxford for writing a pamphlet advocating just this).
Why Should I Care?
Why read
this poem? As a sonnet, it has only fourteen lines, but in this limited space,
Shelley explores a number of issues with enduring relevance.
"Ozymandias" explores the question of what happens to tyrant kings,
and to despotic world leaders more generally. As we all know, nothing lasts
forever; that means even the very worst political leaders – no matter how much
they boast – all die at some point. If Shelley were writing this poem now, he might
take as his subject the famous statue of Saddam Hussein that was pulled down after the dictator was
overthrown. Like the fallen statue in Baghdad, the broken-down statue of
Ozymandias in Shelley's poem points to the short-lived nature of political
regimes and tyrannical power.
But, Shelley doesn't just come out and say "nothing lasts forever" and "there is always hope." He writes a sonnet with a really cool rhyme scheme. Just try reading the poem out loud, and you'll see what we mean.
But, Shelley doesn't just come out and say "nothing lasts forever" and "there is always hope." He writes a sonnet with a really cool rhyme scheme. Just try reading the poem out loud, and you'll see what we mean.
Ozymandias: Text of the Poem
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 shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd 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.
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd 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.
Ozymandias Summary
The
speaker describes a meeting with someone who has traveled to a place where
ancient civilizations once existed. We know from the title that he’s talking
about Egypt. The traveler told the speaker a story about an old, fragmented
statue in the middle of the desert. The statue is broken apart, but you can
still make out the face of a person. The face looks stern and powerful, like a
ruler. The sculptor did a good job at expressing the ruler’s personality. The
ruler was a wicked guy, but he took care of his people.
On the pedestal near the face, the traveler reads an inscription in which the ruler Ozymandias tells anyone who might happen to pass by, basically, “Look around and see how awesome I am!” But there is no other evidence of his awesomeness in the vicinity of his giant, broken statue. There is just a lot of sand, as far as the eye can see. The traveler ends his story.
On the pedestal near the face, the traveler reads an inscription in which the ruler Ozymandias tells anyone who might happen to pass by, basically, “Look around and see how awesome I am!” But there is no other evidence of his awesomeness in the vicinity of his giant, broken statue. There is just a lot of sand, as far as the eye can see. The traveler ends his story.
Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem
line-by-line.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said...
Who said...
- The
poem begins immediately with an encounter between the speaker and a
traveler that comes from an "antique land."
- We're
not sure about this traveler. He could be a native of this
"antique" land, or just a tourist returning from his latest
trip.
- We
don't know where this encounter is taking place; is it on the highway? On
a road somewhere? In London? Maybe if we keep reading we'll find out.
- "Antique"
means something really old, like that couch at your grandmother's or the
bunny ears on top of your television. The traveler could be coming from a
place that is ancient, almost as if he were time-traveling. Or he could
just be coming from a place that has an older history, like Greece, Rome,
or ancient Egypt.
…Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies…
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies…
- Here
the traveler begins his speech. He tells the speaker about a pair of stone
legs that are somehow still standing in the middle of the desert.
- Those
legs are huge ("vast") and "trunkless."
"Trunkless" means "without a torso," so it's a pair of
legs with no body.
- "Visage"
means face; a face implies a head, so we are being told that the head
belonging to this sculpture is partially buried in the sand, near the
legs. It is also, like the whole statue, "shatter'd."
- The
image described is very strange: a pair of legs, with a head nearby. What
happened to the rest of the statue? War? Natural disaster? Napoleon?
…whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
- The
traveler now gives a fuller description of the "shatter'd
visage" lying in the sand.
- As
it turns out, the "visage" (or face) isn't completely
"shatter'd" because one can still see a "frown," a
"wrinkled lip," and a "sneer."
- We
still don't know whom this statue represents, but we do know that he was
upset about something because he's frowning and sneering. Maybe he thinks
that the sneering makes him look powerful. It conveys the "cold
command" of an absolute ruler. He can do what he wants without
thinking of other people. Heck, he probably commanded the sculptor to make
the statue.
- After
briefly describing the "visage" (3), the lines shift our
attention away from the statue to the guy who made the statue, the
"sculptor."
- "Read"
here means "understood" or "copied" well. The sculptor
was pretty good because he was able to understand and reproduce exactly –
to "read" – the facial features and "passions" of our
angry man. The sculptor might even grasp things about the ruler that the
ruler himself doesn't understand.
- The
poem suggests that artists have the ability to perceive the true nature of
other people in the present and not just in the past, with the benefit of
hindsight.
- "Tell"
is a cool word. The statue doesn't literally speak, but the frown and
sneer are so perfectly rendered that they give the impression that they
are speaking, telling us how great the sculptor was.
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these
lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed
- The
poem now tells us more about the "passions" of the face depicted
on the statue.
- Weirdly,
the "passions" still survive because they are "stamp'd on
these lifeless things." The "lifeless things" are the
fragments of the statue in the desert.
- "Stamp'd"
doesn't refer to an ink-stamp, but rather to the artistic process by which
the sculptor inscribed the "frown" and "sneer" on his
statue's face. The word could also make you think of the ruler's power.
Had he wanted to, he could have stamped out any of his subjects who
offended him.
- "Mock'd"
has two meanings in this passage. It means both "made fun of"
and "copied," or "imitated." "Hand" is a
stand-in for the sculptor. So the sculptor both belittled and copied this
man's passions.
- "The
heart that fed" is a tricky phrase; it refers to the heart that
"fed" or nourished the passions of the man that the statue
represents. But if you think these lines are unclear, you're right. Even
scholars have trouble figuring out what they mean.
- The
passions not only "survive"; they have also outlived both the
sculptor ("the hand that mock'd") and the heart of the man
depicted by the statue.
- Note
the contrast between life and death. The fragments of the statue are
called "lifeless things," the sculptor is dead, and so is the
statue's subject. The "passions" though, still
"survive."
Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem
line-by-line.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
- The
traveler tells us about an inscription at the foot of statue which finally
reveals to us whom this statue represents.
- It
is "Ozymandias," the figure named in the title.
"Ozymandias" was one of several Greek names for Ramses II of
Egypt. For more, see "What's Up with the Title."
- The
inscription suggests that Ozymandias is arrogant, or at least that he has
grand ideas about his own power: he calls himself the "king of
kings."
- Ozymandias
also brags about his "works." Maybe he's referring to the famous
temples he constructed at Abu Simbel or Thebes. He could also be calling
attention to the numerous colossal statues of him, such as the one
described in this poem.
- Ozymandias's
speech is ambiguous here. On the one hand he tells the "mighty"
to "despair" because their achievements will never equal his
"works." On the other hand, he might be telling the
"mighty" to "despair" as a kind of warning, saying
something like "Don't get your hopes up guys because your statues,
works, political regimes, etc. will eventually be destroyed or fade away,
with nothing to recall them but a dilapidated statue half-buried in the
sand."
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
- After
the traveler recites the inscription, he resumes his description of the
statue and the surrounding area.
- We
are reminded again that "nothing" remains besides the head,
legs, and pedestal; as if we didn't know the statue has been destroyed,
the traveler tells us again that it is a "colossal wreck."
- The
very size of the statue – "colossal" – emphasizes the scope of
Ozymandias's ambitions as well; it's almost as if because he thinks he's
the "king of kings" (10), he also has to build a really big
statue.
- To
complement the "decay" of the statue, the traveler describes a
desolate and barren desert that seems to go on forever: the "sands
stretch far away."
- The
statue is the only thing in this barren, flat desert. There was probably
once a temple or something nearby, but it's long gone. The
"sands" are "lone," which means whatever else used to
be "beside" the statue has been destroyed or buried.
- Several
words in these lines start with the same letter; for example
"besides," "boundless," and "bare";
"remains" and "round"; "lone" and
"level"; "sands" and "stretch." Using
multiple words with the same initial letter is called alliteration. For
more, see "Sound Check."
Ozymandias Analysis
Ozymandias Symbolism, Imagery
& Wordplay
Symbol Analysis
Because the poem is inspired by a statue of Ramses
II, we shouldn't be surprised to find so many references to this statue and to
sculpting more generally. The "colossal" size of the statue is a
symbol of Ramses's lofty self-promotion royal ambition. But statues and
sculpture aren't all bad in this poem; they are also a vehicle for the poet to
explore questions about the longevity of art, and its ability to capture
"passions" (6) in a "lifeless" (7) medium like stones (or
painting or even poetry).
·
Line 2: The traveler describes two "legs of stone" with no
torso, our first indication that the statue is partly destroyed.
·
Line 4: The head of the statue is "shatter'd" and partially
buried in the sand. "Visage" is a stand-in for the statue's head.
(The use of one part of any object or entity to describe the whole is called
synecdoche.)
·
Line 6-7: The sculptor was pretty good at representing Ramses's
"passions" in the statue, which are "stamp'd" or engraved
in stone. Even though the stones are "lifeless," they paradoxically
give life to the "passions" that still "survive." There are
three words in these two lines that start with "s"; the use of
multiple words starting with the same letter is called alliteration.
·
Line 8: The "hand that mock'd" is another reference to the
sculptor and the work of imitation he performs. "Hand" is another
example of synecdoche, in which a part (the hand) stands in for the whole (the
sculptor).
·
Line 9: Describes the base of the statue and the boast engraved on it.
·
Line 11: The inscription refers to "works," which might be a
reference to other statues, works of art, or monuments commissioned by
Ozymandias. This line is ambiguous; Ozymandias could be telling the mighty to
despair because their works will never be as good as his or he could be telling
them to despair because their works will all eventually crumble just like his.
Ozymandias clearly doesn't intend this second meaning, but it's there whether
he wants it or not. That's called dramatic irony.
·
Line 13: The poem again reminds us that there is a huge statue in the
desert that is now a "colossal wreck."
Symbol Analysis
The statue that inspired the poem was partially
destroyed, and the poem frequently reminds us that the statue is in ruins. The
dilapidated state of the statue symbolizes not only the erosive processes of
time, but also the transience of political leaders and regimes.
- Line
2: The "legs" of the statue don't have a torso ("trunkless").
- Line
4: The statue's head is "shatter'd" and partly buried in the
sand.
- Line
11: The inscription implores the viewer to "look on"
Ozymandias's "works." One of those "works" is the
statue described in the poem, and it's only a pair of legs and a
"shatter'd" head.
- Line
12-13: The statue is described as in a state of "decay" and as a
"colossal wreck."
- Line
13-14: We're assuming this statue wasn't always in the middle of nowhere –
there must have been some kind of temple or pyramid nearby. Not anymore;
the area around the statue is "bare" and the desert is
"lone," or empty. The traveler calls our attention to the
barrenness of the desert through the extensive use of alliteration
(beginning multiple words with the same letter): "boundless and bare,"
"lone and level," "sands stretch."
Symbol Analysis
There is a lot of death in this poem; the figure
represented in the statue is dead, along with the civilization to which he
belonged. The statue is destroyed, and so it too is, in some sense, dead. And
yet amidst all the death, there are several images of life that give the poem a
sense of balance, however slight.
- Lines
1-2: Most of the poem describes a statue, but these first two lines
describe an encounter between two living people, the speaker and a
"traveler from an antique land."
- Line
6-7: The description of the "sculptor" making a statue
introduces another living figure into the poem, as does the reference to
the "passions" of Ozymandias. Furthermore, even though the
sculpture is "lifeless," the passions still "survive."
Symbol Analysis
While most of the poem describes a statue, the
traveler makes a point of telling us that Ozymandias's "passions"
still survive: they are "stamp'd" on the statue, giving all those who
view the statue a sense of what Ozymandias's disposition was like, or at least
what it was like when the statue was made.
- Lines
4-5: The poem describes the features on the face of the statue and, by
extension, the features of Ozymandias. He must have been angry about
something because his face has a "sneer," a "frown,"
and a "wrinkled lip."
- Line
6: We are told that the sculptor "well those passions read,"
that he was somehow able to capture them fairly well in his statue.
- Line
8: The "heart" is the organ most often linked to feelings and
passions; it "fed" the passions depicted in the statue. Because
the heart didn't literally "feed" the passions, "fed"
here is a metaphor.
Ozymandias: Rhyme, Form &
Meter
We’ll
show you the poem’s blueprints, and we’ll listen for the music behind the
words.
Sonnet in Pentameter
"Ozymandias"
takes the form of a sonnet in iambic pentameter. A sonnet is a fourteen-line
poem, whose ideal form is often attributed to the great Italian poet Petrarch.
The Petrarchan sonnet is structured as an octave (8 lines) and a sestet (6
lines). The octave often proposes a problem or concern that the sestet resolves
or otherwise engages. The ninth line – the first line of the sestet – marks a
shift in the direction of the poem and is frequently called the "turn"
or, for you Italian scholars, the volta.
While the rhyme scheme of the octave is ABBA ABBA, the rhyme scheme of the
sestet is more flexible; two of the most common are CDCDCD and CDECDE.
The other major sonnet form is the Shakespearean or English sonnet; it too has fourteen lines, but is structured as a series of three quatrains (of four lines each) and a concluding couplet (consisting of two consecutive rhyming lines). The Shakespearean sonnet is in iambic pentameter and follows the rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.
Shelley's sonnet is a strange mixture of these two forms. It is Petrarchan in that the poem is structured as a group of eight lines (octave) and a group of six lines (the sestet). The rhyme scheme is initially Shakespearean, as the first four lines rhyme ABAB. But then the poem gets strange: at lines 5-8 the rhyme scheme is ACDC, rather than the expected CDCD. For lines 9-12, the rhyme scheme is EDEF, rather than EFEF. Finally, instead of a concluding couplet we get another EF group. The entire rhyme scheme can be schematized as follows: ABABACDCEDEFEF.
The poem is written in pentameter, meaning there are five (penta-) groups of two syllables in each line. While you've probably heard of iambic pentameter, Shelley's poem makes it really hard to use that designation. Iambic pentameter means that each line contains five feet or groups, each of which contains an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable, as in this line:
half-sunk, a shatt-er'd vis-age lies, whose b>frown (4)
Many of the lines in the poem, however, refuse to conform to this pattern. Take line 12 for example:
No-thing be-side re-mains: round the de-cay
The line begins with a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable; this is called a trochee, and it's the reverse of an iamb. After the initial trochee, we get two iambs, but then we go back to a trochee with "round the," finally ending with an iamb; there's no name for this jumping around! This refusal to conform to any specific meter is evident throughout the poem, and makes it difficult to classify with a simple formula like iambic pentameter.
The other major sonnet form is the Shakespearean or English sonnet; it too has fourteen lines, but is structured as a series of three quatrains (of four lines each) and a concluding couplet (consisting of two consecutive rhyming lines). The Shakespearean sonnet is in iambic pentameter and follows the rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.
Shelley's sonnet is a strange mixture of these two forms. It is Petrarchan in that the poem is structured as a group of eight lines (octave) and a group of six lines (the sestet). The rhyme scheme is initially Shakespearean, as the first four lines rhyme ABAB. But then the poem gets strange: at lines 5-8 the rhyme scheme is ACDC, rather than the expected CDCD. For lines 9-12, the rhyme scheme is EDEF, rather than EFEF. Finally, instead of a concluding couplet we get another EF group. The entire rhyme scheme can be schematized as follows: ABABACDCEDEFEF.
The poem is written in pentameter, meaning there are five (penta-) groups of two syllables in each line. While you've probably heard of iambic pentameter, Shelley's poem makes it really hard to use that designation. Iambic pentameter means that each line contains five feet or groups, each of which contains an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable, as in this line:
half-sunk, a shatt-er'd vis-age lies, whose b>frown (4)
Many of the lines in the poem, however, refuse to conform to this pattern. Take line 12 for example:
No-thing be-side re-mains: round the de-cay
The line begins with a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable; this is called a trochee, and it's the reverse of an iamb. After the initial trochee, we get two iambs, but then we go back to a trochee with "round the," finally ending with an iamb; there's no name for this jumping around! This refusal to conform to any specific meter is evident throughout the poem, and makes it difficult to classify with a simple formula like iambic pentameter.
Speaker Point of View
Who
is the speaker, can she or he read minds, and, more importantly, can we trust
her or him?
There are
several different voices in this poem that put some distance between us and
Ozymandias. First there is the speaker of the poem, you know the guy who meets
the traveler from an "antique land." It's almost as if the speaker
has just stopped for the night at a hotel, or stepped into an unfamiliar bar,
and happens to bump into a well-traveled guy. The speaker doesn't hang around
very long before handing the microphone over to the traveler, whose voice
occupies the remainder of the poem. One can imagine a movie based on this
storyline: the speaker meets a strange guy who then narrates his experiences,
which make up the rest of the film.
We don't know a whole lot about this traveler; he could be a native of the "antique land" (1), a tourist who has visited it, or even a guy who just stepped out of a time machine. He seems like one of those guys you'd meet in a youth hostel who has all kinds of cool stories but no real place to call home other than the road; he is a "traveler" after all, and he clearly knows how to give a really dramatic description – just note the bleak picture that is painted of the "lone and level sands" stretching "far away" (14) to see what we mean.
Most of the poem consists of the traveler's description of the statue lying in the desert, except for the two lines in the middle where he tells us what the inscription on the statue says; and while the traveler speaks these lines, they really belong to Ozymandias, making him, in a sense, the third speaker in this polyphonic (or many-voiced) poem.
We don't know a whole lot about this traveler; he could be a native of the "antique land" (1), a tourist who has visited it, or even a guy who just stepped out of a time machine. He seems like one of those guys you'd meet in a youth hostel who has all kinds of cool stories but no real place to call home other than the road; he is a "traveler" after all, and he clearly knows how to give a really dramatic description – just note the bleak picture that is painted of the "lone and level sands" stretching "far away" (14) to see what we mean.
Most of the poem consists of the traveler's description of the statue lying in the desert, except for the two lines in the middle where he tells us what the inscription on the statue says; and while the traveler speaks these lines, they really belong to Ozymandias, making him, in a sense, the third speaker in this polyphonic (or many-voiced) poem.
Ozymandias Setting
Where
It All Goes Down
This poem
has several settings. It begins with a strange encounter between the speaker
and a traveler from an "antique land" (1). We have no idea where this
rendezvous takes place, which is very weird. It could be in the speaker's head,
in a dream, on the street, or in the desert; it sort of resembles something
that might occur in a youth hostel or a tavern in London. The first appearance
of Aragorn in theFellowship of the Ring might be a good comparison.
Shortly after this initial meeting we are whisked away to the sands of Egypt, or a barren desert that closely resembles it. And this desert isn't just barren; it's really barren. Other than the legs, pedestal, and head of the statue, there's only sand. No trace remains of the civilization or culture that spawned the statue. It's a lot like something you'd see inPlanet Earth: emptiness all around, a few sand-storms here, and that's about it. It reminds us of movies where people are stranded in the desert and eventually find a little oasis or the occasional tree, except that here we find a partially destroyed statue instead of a little pond.
Shortly after this initial meeting we are whisked away to the sands of Egypt, or a barren desert that closely resembles it. And this desert isn't just barren; it's really barren. Other than the legs, pedestal, and head of the statue, there's only sand. No trace remains of the civilization or culture that spawned the statue. It's a lot like something you'd see inPlanet Earth: emptiness all around, a few sand-storms here, and that's about it. It reminds us of movies where people are stranded in the desert and eventually find a little oasis or the occasional tree, except that here we find a partially destroyed statue instead of a little pond.
Sound Check
Read
this poem aloud. What do you hear?
"Ozymandias"
sounds a lot like the conclusion of a Shakespearean tragedy; the final lines of
the poem are especially reminiscent of something you might hear as the curtain
is about to fall at the end of the play, or as the credits are about to roll at
the end of a sad movie. The way in which the poem emphasizes destruction and
barrenness makes it read like something you'd hear at Ozymandias's funeral. The
last lines in particular call attention to the poem's themes in a really catchy
way (note all those memorable, alliterative phrases!), making the poem seem
very much like those last words you hear as you're about to leave the theater
What’s Up With the Title?
"Ozymandias"
is an ancient Greek name for Ramses
II of Egypt. It is actually a Greek version of the Egyptian phrase
"User-maat-Re," one of Ramses's Egyptian names. Why not just call the
poem "User-maat-Re," you might ask? Well, this is Shelley, who had
studied ancient Greek; it is therefore no surprise that he chooses to use the
Greek name "Ozymandias," rather than the Egyptian name.
Ramses II was one of Egypt's greatest pharaohs, and many of the most famous tourist sites in Egypt, including the temple of Abu Simbel and the Ramesseum in Thebes, were built or planned during his incredibly long tenure (he lived until he was 90!). He is known not only for his building program, but also for several ambitious foreign military campaigns and for his diplomacy, especially with the Hittites, another important ancient people.
Ramses II was one of Egypt's greatest pharaohs, and many of the most famous tourist sites in Egypt, including the temple of Abu Simbel and the Ramesseum in Thebes, were built or planned during his incredibly long tenure (he lived until he was 90!). He is known not only for his building program, but also for several ambitious foreign military campaigns and for his diplomacy, especially with the Hittites, another important ancient people.
Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Calling
Card
What
is the poet’s signature style?
Long, Complicated Sentences
Shelley
loved to write really long sentences, and this poem is no exception. The second
complete sentence, which begins in line 3, is a good example. The sentence has
a lot of separate clauses that resemble complicated Latin sentences from two
thousand years ago. The main clause is the statement that a "shatter'd
visage" lies in the sand near the legs; the rest of the sentence – you
know all that stuff about the "frown" and "sneer of cold
command" and how the sculptor was so good that the passions have outlived
both Ramses and the artist – is all extraneous information that merely adds to
or supplements the first assertion. This long, central sentence gives the poem
an epic feel, even within the confines of a decidedly un-epic poetic form, the
fourteen-line sonnet. Shelley always had grand ambitions.
Tough-O-Meter
We’ve
got your back. With the Tough-O-Meter, you’ll know whether to bring extra
layers or Swiss army knives as you summit the literary mountain. (10 =
Toughest)
(2) Sea Level
"Ozymandias"
is a relatively straightforward poem; there aren't many strange words, except
for "mock'd." At times the syntax can be a little tricky; for
example, the first eight lines are two sentences, the second of which has a lot
of clauses that have to be sifted through and assigned their proper function.
Other than that second sentence, though, the poem doesn't go much above sea
level, making it one of the more readable Shelley poems.
Ozymandias Trivia
Brain
Snacks: Tasty Tidbits of Knowledge
Napoleon
tried to steal the statue that inspired "Ozymandias" and left a hole
in its right side. (Source)
Shelley
was part of a larger group of friends that frequently engaged in sonnet-writing
contests. The members included Leigh Hunt and John Keats. (Source)
Shelley
used the pseudonym (fake name) "Gilrastes" when he published
"Ozymandias" in the Examiner.
(Source)
The
graphic novel and movie Watchmen features a superhero named Ozymandias.
Ozymandias Steaminess Rating
Exactly
how steamy is this poem?
G
This poem
doesn't really have much to do with sex.
When poets refer to other great works, people, and events, it’s usually
not accidental. Put on your super-sleuth hat and figure out why.
- Diodorus
Siculus, Historical Library Book 1, Chapter 4 (Lines
10-11)
- Ozymandias,
a.k.a. Ramses II of Egypt (Lines 10-11)
Ozymandias Themes
"Ozymandias" is obsessed with transience;
the very fact that the statue is a "colossal wreck" (13) says loudly
and clearly that some things just don't last forever. But the poem isn't just
about how really big statues eventually succumb to the ravages of time; the
statue is a symbol of Ozymandias's ambition, pride, and absolute power, and
thus the poem also implies that kingdoms and political regimes will eventually
crumble, leaving no trace of their existence except, perhaps, pathetic statues
that no longer even have torsos.
1. Do all political
regimes necessarily pass away? Are there some that just won't go away?
2. How does the poem
view the permanence of art? Do artistic "works" necessarily
"decay" like the statue of Ozymandias?
3. Is the poem's view of
transience and impermanence hopeful or despairing?
4. Are there any signs
that the poem laments the destruction of the statue and the loss of the
civilization that produced it?
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devil’s advocate.
Even though the poem is obsessed with transience
and impermanence, it also suggests that a work of art, however fragmentary,
leaves a record of what has passed away.
In the inscription on the pedestal Ozymandias calls
himself the "king of kings" while also implying that his
"works" – works of art like the statue, pyramids, that sort of thing
– are the best around (10). Ozymandias thinks pretty highly of himself and of
what he's achieved, both politically and artistically. The fact that he commissions
this "colossal" statue with "vast legs" points to his sense
of pride, while the statue's fragmentary state indicates the emptiness (at
least in the long term) of Ozymandias's boast.
1. The statue in the
poem sounds like a really cool work of art; isn't it to be expected that
Ozymandias would take pride in such an artistic wonder?
2. Is there any
indication that the sculptor takes pride in his work?
3. If Ozymandias was
pharaoh during a particularly prosperous period of Egyptian history, is it at
all possible that he really was the "king of kings"(10)? Could he
have been better than any other king around?
4. Does the poem suggest
that pride in itself is bad? Or is it just bad when indulged in by a tyrant
like Ozymandias?
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devil’s advocate.
Ozymandias's proud statement that he is the
"king of kings" aligns him with a number of power-hungry villains,
like the Biblical Satan, or even Sauron from Lord of the Rings.
"Ozymandias" was inspired by a statue,
and it's no surprise that art is one of this poem's themes. The traveler makes
a point of telling us that the statue was made by a really skilled sculptor,
and the poem as a whole explores the question of art's longevity. The statue is
in part a stand-in or substitute for all kinds of art (painting, poetry, etc.),
and the poem asks us to think not just about sculpture, but about the fate of
other arts as well.
1. If even a durable
statue like the one described in the poem eventually crumbles, what happens to
other kinds of art that use flimsier materials – like poetry and painting?
2. The traveler refers
to the destroyed statue as a heap of "lifeless things" (7). Is the statue
"lifeless" because it's in pieces, because it is
"trunkless" and headless and is thus no longer a complete body? Or is
it "lifeless" because it's made of something inorganic (stone)?
3. The sculptor is said
to have accurately rendered the passions of Ozymandias's face. Is the only way
to judge a work of art by how "real" it looks, by how much it
resembles that which it represents?
4. What kind of
connection exists between a work of art and the civilization or culture that
produced it? Can art tell us anything about the culture that produced it?
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devil’s advocate.
The sculptor is similar to the reader of the poem
because both engage in the processes of reading and interpretation.
"Ozymandias" describes a statue, and
statues are made from rocks and stones found in nature. While the poem explores
the way in which art necessarily involves some kind of engagement with the
natural world, it also thinks about how nature might fight back. The statue's
head is half-buried in the sand, after all, and we are left wondering what role
the erosive force of dust storms, wind, and rain played in its destruction.
1. Does all art necessarily
use materials from nature, like rocks, stones, and paper?
2. Besides getting its
raw materials (paper, rocks, stones) from nature, in what other ways does art
interact with the natural world?
3. Do you feel that
nature is punishing Ozymandias for his pride by destroying his statue? Why or
why not?
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devil’s advocate.
"Ozymandias" suggests that the
relationship between art and nature is a double-edged sword: while the natural
world furnishes the artist with raw materials, it also has the power to reclaim
those materials by later destroying the work of art.
Ozymandias Quotes
Find
quotes from this poem, with commentary from Shmoop. Pick a theme below to
begin.
Ozymandias Transience Quotes Page
1
How we cite
the quotes:
(line numbers)
(line numbers)
|
Quote
#1
I met a traveler from an
antique land (1)
|
The very
fact that the "land" is "antique" suggests that it is
outdated, kind of like dial-up internet. The speaker implies that the traveler
is coming from a place that is more primitive or older than the speaker's, a
place that used to be home to a civilization and culture that has passed away.
|
Quote
#2
…Two vast and trunkless
legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies (2-4) |
The statue
is on its last legs; it has no torso, and the surrounding desert is doing its
best to bury the "shatter'd" head. We are not told how the statue has
come to be in this state, though we might infer that since it is located in an
"antique land," perhaps it too has succumbed to the erosive force of
time, like a lot of antiquities. This ancient object, too, is about to vanish;
one can't help thinking that the legs will eventually suffer the same fate as
the "shatter'd visage."
|
Quote
#3
Nothing beside remains;
round the decay
of that colossal wreck (12-13) |
Not only
is most of the statue gone, but there isn't anything else around. The temples,
palaces and whatever else might have adorned this landscape have all
disappeared, leaving "nothing" but two legs and a head.
"Decay" is an important word here; it implies that the statue has
been slowly rotting or crumbling over a long period of time, and that it will
eventually be completely destroyed or buried. It also suggests that the statue
was once living, perhaps implying something about the status of art and its
eventual fate.
Ozymandias Pride Quotes Page 1
How we cite
the quotes:
(line numbers)
(line numbers)
|
Quote
#1
...whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command (4-5) |
We know
that later in the poem Ozymandias will brag about the greatness of his works,
but here he seems less than satisfied with something, as if he thinks his works
could be better. We can imagine the sculptor hammering away at the statue and
Ozymandias giving him a dirty look because something about it just isn't right.
Alternatively, perhaps Ozymandias was perpetually frowning because his empire
just wasn't good enough, or big enough.
|
Quote
#2
"My name is
Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair" (10) |
There is a
lot of arrogance in this statement, and it's almost as if he were saying that
his name means "king of kings." He brags about his "works"
(statues like the one described, pyramids, etc.) as well, telling the
"Mighty" to "despair" because their works will never be as
good or as his. Ironically, Ozymandias's works are nowhere to be seen – all
that's left is a barren desert and this broken statue. His pride is made to
look stupid because his "works" are all gone, except for this
fragmented statue that, quite literally, is on its last legs.
Ozymandias Art and Culture
Quotes Page 1
How we cite
the quotes:
(line numbers)
(line numbers)
|
Quote
#1
Two vast and trunkless
legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, half-sunk A shatter'd visage lies (2-4) |
These
lines describe a very strange image; just imagine two legs in the middle of the
desert, with a head partly submerged nearby. When we imagine a desert, we often
imagine a really hot place with lots of sand that is, appropriately, deserted.
The "culture" that has produced the "art" has disappeared
or, better yet, has sunk beneath the sand, just like the statue's head. The
partially-shrunken head is a symbol of a vanishing, "antique"
culture. And yet part of the statue is still "standing." It's hard to
account for this, but it could be because its "colossal" dimensions
make it hard to destroy, or because art somehow finds a way to persist.
|
Quote
#2
...whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things, The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed (4-7) |
These
lines suggest that good art has the ability to embody and preserve passions
over several thousand years; the statue is like a piece of fossilized amber,
but instead of a prehistoric fly, what remains are Ozymandias's passions, kept
neatly encased for later viewers. The preservation of the passions contrasts
with the dilapidated state of the statue. Even though the statue is dead, it
still possesses a strange life-preserving power; this is a bizarre state of
affairs indeed. It suggests that art is not useless decoration, but can in fact
play an important documentary role.
Ozymandias Man and the Natural
World Quotes Page 1
How we cite
the quotes:
(line numbers)
(line numbers)
|
Quote
#1
Two vast and trunkless
legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies (2-4) |
These
lines give us several images of nature: the "stone," the
"desert," and the "sand." The "stone" reminds us
that the statue is a product of nature in some sense; the way in which the legs
are standing in the sand suggests something similar, as if they were just
emerging from the sand or nature were giving birth to them.
"Half-sunk" calls to mind images of the sea: it's as if the head is
being reclaimed by an unforgiving ocean of sand. The materials used to make the
statue are slowly returning to the place from where they came, completing a
kind of natural cycle of life and death.
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Quote
#2
those passions...
which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things (6-7) |
"Lifeless"
is an incredibly rich word in this passage. That the pieces of the statue are
now "lifeless" suggests that they were in fact once alive. Perhaps a
work of art is alive when it's complete or, rather, not in fragments like the
statue of Ozymandias. Or perhaps it has something to do with the role or
function of the work of art in a particular culture. Because the surrounding
temples and civilization have been destroyed, the statue no longer functions as
a tribute to, or symbol of, Ozymandias's political power; it is
"dead" because it is now an artistic curiosity, an object for
museum-goers to look at and poets to write about rather than a statue with a
specific function within a particular culture.
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Quote
#3
…lone and level sands
stretch far away (14)
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Nature has
the final victory in this poem: the statue is almost gone, having suffered the
same fate as the civilization that produced it. Ozymandias's empire once
"stretch[ed] far away," but now it is nature – embodied by the
"lone and level sands" – that extends its empire. Interestingly, the
sands are "lone" even though there is a statue still there, as if the
statue is so insignificant relative to nature that it is almost not worth
mentioning.
Bring on the tough stuff - there’s not just one right answer.
- Where
do you think the encounter between the speaker and the traveler takes
place? Is it on the street? Is it in the speaker's head? What does this
vagueness contribute to the poem?
- In
this poem three different people speak (the speaker, the traveler, and
Ozymandias). What do you make of this? Does it make the poem seem more
like a novel or a play, where different voices are permitted to speak?
- There's
a lot of alliteration in this poem. There's also plenty of rhyming. What
do you make of all this repetition? Does it suggest some kind of cyclical,
history-repeats-itself, idea?
- What
do you think Ozymandias would say if he could see what has happened to his
crumbling statue? Would he be humbled or would he find some other way to
boast?
- Are
there political leaders today that you consider to be similar to
Ozymandias, or is he a different case because he had absolute power? Which
leaders would you want to read this poem?
- Have
you ever had a strange encounter with somebody from another country? Did
it involve a tale about a destroyed statue or something similarly bizarre?
Taken from:
Summary and Analysis"Ozymandias"
Shelley's
irregular sonnet on the fragments of a huge statue of an Egyptian pharaoh
begins with a statement that arouses the interest of the reader at once:
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert.
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert.
The mention of a traveler is
a promise of a story. The story is a characteristically Shelleyan one about
tyranny and how time makes a mockery of the boastfulness of even the most
powerful kings. The story is over and Shelley's point is made before the reader
realizes that he has been subjected to a moral lesson.
The fine beginning is
followed by a condensed and vigorous account of what the traveler saw in
addition to the two huge legs standing in the desert: a shattered visage, a
pedestal, and on it a boastful inscription. Nothing more except the empty
desert. Shelley puts the words of the inscription in effectively ironic
contrast with the surroundings. The rulers of the world, "ye Mighty,"
are told by Ozymandias, "king of kings," to look upon his works and
despair of emulating them. Now one looks and sees nothing whatsoever. Instead
of the architectural marvels promised by the inscription, "the lone and
level sands stretch far away." Just as the sculptor mocked Ozymandias by
putting on the face of the colossal monument a "frown / And wrinkled lip,
and sneer of cold command," so time has also mocked him by reducing his
vain boast to nothingness. The works that were to be the despair of other pharaohs
have completely disappeared. Even the gigantic statue of himself that he had
commissioned has been reduced to two legs, a shattered face, and a pedestal.
"Ozymandias" was
written by Shelley in competition with his friend Horace Smith. The superiority
of Shelley's choice of details and of the vigor of his diction are splendidly
illustrated by a comparison with the octave of his friend's sonnet:
In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone
Stands a gigantic leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the desert knows.
"I am Great Ozymandias," saith the stone,
"The king of kings; this mighty city shows
The wonders of my hand." The city's gone!
Nought but the leg remaining to disclose
The site of that forgotten Babylon.
Stands a gigantic leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the desert knows.
"I am Great Ozymandias," saith the stone,
"The king of kings; this mighty city shows
The wonders of my hand." The city's gone!
Nought but the leg remaining to disclose
The site of that forgotten Babylon.
Both poets remove the city of
Thebes, the site of the statue, from their poems for artistic purposes.
Ozymandias was the name by which Ramses II, a pharaoh famous for
the number of architectural structures he caused to be erected, was known to
the Greeks. Shelley had read of the statue in Diodorus Siculus, a Roman writer,
who had described it as intact. He had obviously read about it in some other
source also since he knew that the statue was no longer intact. The problem of
Shelley's sources is discussed in an interesting, illustrated article by
Johnstone Parr, "Shelley's 'Ozymandias,'" Keats-Shelley
Journal Vol. VI (1957).
