Large remains of that palace
continue to the present day. It is the most interesting memorial
of the past which can now be found in France. The magnificence of
its proportions still strike the beholder with awe. "Behold," says
a writer, who trod its marble floors nearly a thousand years ago:
"Behold the Palace of the Kings, whose turrets pierce the skies,
and whose foundations penetrate even to the empire of the dead."
Julius Caesar gazed proudly upon those turrets; and here the shouts
of Roman legions, fifteen hundred years ago proclaimed Julian emperor;
and Roman maidens, with throbbing hearts, trod these floors in the
mazy dance. No one can enter the grand hall of the haths, without
being deeply impressed with the majestic aspect of the edifice, and
with the grandeur of its gigantic proportions. The decay of nearly
two thousand years has left its venerable impress upon those walls.
Here Roman generals proudly strode, encased in brass and steel,
and the clatter of their arms resounded through these arches. In
these mouldering, crumbling tubs of stone, they laved their sinewy
limbs. But where are those fierce warriors now? In what employments
have their turbulent spirits been engaged, while generation after
generation has passed on earth, in the enactment of the comedies
and the tragedies of life? Did their rough tutelage in the camp,
and their proud hearing in the court, prepare them for the love,
the kindness, the gentleness, the devotion of Heaven? In fields of
outrage, clamor, and blood, madly rushing to the assault, shouting
in frenzy, dealing, with iron hand, every where around, destruction
and death, did they acquire a taste for the "green pastures and
the still waters?" Alas! for the mystery of our being! They are
gone, and gone forever! Their name has perished--their language is
forgotten.
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