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