Thinking is but an idle waste of thought, And nought is everything and everything is nought. - Horace Smith

And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!)
In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago,
When the Memnonium was in all its glory.

In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws The only shadow that the Desart 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 this forgotten Babylon. We wonder,- and some Hunter may express Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace, He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess What powerful but unrecorded race Once dwelt in that annihilated place.

In the name of the Prophet—figs.