Here the sculptor “mocks” in the sense that he has the ability to imitate and shape, and at the same time caricature.
Serving as the king’s lasting legacy, the statue is largely outside of his control, much like control of our own lives and legacies, which lives on past our own existence. The “hand that mock’d them” is said to be passionate and motivated, by the line, “ heart that fed”, but ultimately the fate of the statue is at the will of the sculptor. In the literal sense, the statue of Ozymandias is crafted by a sculptor, described here as being attentive to detail. Furthermore this level of ambiguity augments our understanding of the relationships between the sculptor and the world. This degree of uncertainty over its authenticity plays an important part in the simple but effective implementation of mystery to the story. The ancient lands of Ozymandias were transversed by a “traveler”, whose tale tells like a legend or myth. Shelley appeals to our mind’s sense of understanding and nebulous recollection through the positioning of the speaker to the statue of Ozymandias. The poem “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley seeks to substantiate this claim, by commenting on the cycle of human mortality, and mankind’s attempts to outlast our earthly limitations.įrom a technical standpoint Shelley frames this poem with notable renderings of eloquent language and rhetorical devices, which enhance his theme and create a memorable narrative from these simple beginnings.
Truly our impacts and impressions are interred with us, or some mark on a dry erase board, with no lasting effects on the world to come. This work, on the forefront of a new philosophical notion, is not to gasconade the deeds of a king, but to excogitate the concept that precious time is fleeting. What greater hindrance is there present than that of time? Humanity’s cupidity to conquer mortality, in the same fashion that we have seemingly tamed the seas, changed the fates of our lives, and enhanced our reality through the convenience of machines, has failed us. The lone and level sands stretch far away. Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’ The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,Īnd wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
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