There, amongst the lank desert plants, lie blocks scattered at hazard--the remains of sanctuaries, of which neither the plan nor the form will ever be discovered.

But on these stones, fragments of the history of the world are still to be read in clear-cut hieroglyphs.
To the west of the hypostyle hall there is a region strewn with discs, all equal and all alike.

It might be a draught-board for Titans with draughts that would measure ten yards in circumference.

They are the scattered fragments, slices, as it were, of a colonnade of the Ramses.
Farther on the ground seems to have passed through fire.

You walk over blackish scoriae encrusted with brazen bolts and particles of melted glass.