I met a collector of an antique brand,
Who said—“Two small and trunkless legs of tin
Stand on the shelf. . . . Near them, on the stand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose grin,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
Produced by Citadel Miniatures;
Look on Games Workshop, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that miniature Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level stands stretch far away."