The Harlequin Opal, Volume 3 by Fergus Hume

This is a tropical forest, Where myriad leaves forming a roof overhead, keep out the effulgence of sunlight, So that beneath is the region of shadows and dimness; Yet in this spectral twilight rise cities, magnificent, lonely; Built in the far-distant days of giants -- great architects they! Sky-piercing pyramids, plinth, and column, and capital. Line upon line of pillars, that loom in the darkness eternal, Staircases huge, vast halls, and temples majestical; Now no longer receiving the throngs of worshippers holy, Only the bat flits through the ruins; ravenous beasts now wander Through street, and square, and palaces gorgeous. Who built all these splendours? We know not who built them. Yet do they loom in the twilight region of shadows, Encircled by tropical forests.

As a rule, Dr. Grench was an early riser, and denied himself the luxurious idleness of morning slumbers, but on this special occasion he did not wake at his usual hour. The dancing of the previous night had proved too much for the virtuous Peter, who always went to bed early, consequently he was very tired, and by no means pleased at being awakened unexpectedly by Jack. Peter was in the middle of a delightful dream, in which he was hunting unusually large beetles. After a time, however, the beetles began to hunt Peter, and one, having caught him, was shaking him severely. The shaking woke him up, and the beetle changed to Jack, who was trying to pull Peter out of bed.