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 this forgotten Babylon.

    We wonder,—and some hunter may express 
    Wonder like ours, when thro’ the wilderness 
      Where London stood, holding the wolf in chase, 
    He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess 
      What powerful but unrecorded race 
      Once dwelt in that annihilated place.

Compare this poem with it’s more famous contemporary, Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley. They were written at the same time as a bit of a friendly challenge between poets.