Explore "Sonnet: Political Greatness" by Percy Bysshe Shelley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame, / Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill in arms or arts, / Shepherd those herds whom tyranny makes tame; / Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts, / History is but the shadow of their shame, / Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts / As to oblivion their blind millions fleet, / Staining that Heaven with obscene imagery / Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit / By force or custom? Man who man would be, / Must rule the empire of himself; in it / Must be supreme, establishing his throne / On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy / Of hopes and fears, being himself alone.