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"What cities, as great as this, have... promised themselves
immortality! Posterity can hardly trace the situation of some. The
sorrowful traveler wanders over the awful ruins of others... Here stood
their citadel, but now grown over with weeds; there their senate-house,
but now the haunt of every noxious reptile; temples and theatres stood
here, now only an undistinguished heap of ruins."
- Oliver Goldsmith: The Bee, No. iv.,
1759. "A City Night Piece".
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