'Tis a glorious thing to visit lands where empire lived of yore,
To tread upon the Assyrian plain, the Greek and Latin shore,
To ponder o'er the mighty tombs of generations gone,
And dream, amid the ruins vast, of Rome and Babylon.

We sigh that widowed Carthage now lies levelled with the wave;
That Tadmor and Persepolis are silent as the grave;
But wizard fancy bids the crowds, that filled those ancient walls,
Once more arise in living pride, to throng their streets and halls.

She waves her wand — the pillar lifts aloft the sculptured dome,
And the temple, all restored and grand, appears of gods the home;
Her magic makes it pleasant still to visit foreign climes,
And see the sad memorials that speak of other times.