But monument themselves memorials need.

But monument themselves memorials need.

I have reared a memorial more enduring than brass, and loftier
than the regal structure of the pyramids, which read more

I have reared a memorial more enduring than brass, and loftier
than the regal structure of the pyramids, which neither the
corroding shower nor the powerless north wind can destroy; no,
not even unending years nor the flight of time itself. I shall
not entirely die. The greater part of me shall escape oblivion.
[Lat., Exegi monumentum aera perennius
Regalique situ pyramidum altius,
Quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens
Possit diruere aut innumerabilis
Annorum series et fuga temporum.
Non omnis moriar, multaque pars mei
Vitabit Libitinam.]

The need has gone; the memorial thereof remains.
[Lat., Factum abiit; monumenta manent.]

The need has gone; the memorial thereof remains.
[Lat., Factum abiit; monumenta manent.]

He made him a hut, wherein he did put
The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.
O poor Robinson read more

He made him a hut, wherein he did put
The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.
O poor Robinson Crusoe!

Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.--
This grave shall have a living monument.
An hour read more

Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.--
This grave shall have a living monument.
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
Till then in patience our proceeding be.

Soldiers, forty centuries are looking down upon you from these
pyramids.
[Fr., Soldats, du haut ces Pyramide quarante read more

Soldiers, forty centuries are looking down upon you from these
pyramids.
[Fr., Soldats, du haut ces Pyramide quarante siecles vous
contemplent.]

The tap'ring pyramid, the Egyptian's pride,
And wonder of the world, whose spiky top
Has wounded the read more

The tap'ring pyramid, the Egyptian's pride,
And wonder of the world, whose spiky top
Has wounded the thick cloud.

You shall not pile, with servile toil,
Your monuments upon my breast,
Nor yet within the common read more

You shall not pile, with servile toil,
Your monuments upon my breast,
Nor yet within the common soil
Lay down the wreck of power to rest,
Where man can boast that he has trod
On him that was "the scourge of God."

Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies.

Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies.