Where are the cities which of old in mighty grandeur rose!

Amid the desert’s burning sands, or girt with frozen snows;

Is there no vestige now remains their wondrous tale to tell,

Of how they blazed, like meteor-stars, and how, like them, they fell?

Hark! hark! the voice of prophecy comes o’er the desert wide,

Come down, come down, and in the dust thy virgin beauties hide;

Oh “Daughter of Chaldea,” thou no more enthroned shall be,

For the desert and the wilderness alone shall tell of thee.

Though old Euphrates still rolls in his everlasting stream,

Thy brazen gates and golden halls, as though they ne’er had been;