"The storm which wrecks the wintry sky. No more disturbs their
deep repose, Than summer evening's gentlest sign, Which shuts
the rose."
Upon a part of the rums of this old palace of Caesars, there has
been reared by more modern ancients , still another palace, where
mirth and revelry have resounded, where pride has elevated her
haughty head, and vanity displayed her costly robes--but over all
those scenes of splendor, death has rolled its oblivious waves. About
four hundred years ago, upon a portion of the crumbling walls of
this old Roman mansion, the Palace of Cluny was reared. For three
centuries, this palace was one of the abodes of the kings of France.
The tide of regal life ebbed and flowed through those saloons, and
along those corridors. There is the chamber where Mary of England,
sister of Henry VIII., and widow of Louis XII., passed the weary
years of her widowhood. It is still called the chamber of the
"white queen," from the custom of the queens of France to wear
white mourning. Three hundred years ago, these Gothic turrets, and
gorgeously ornamented lucarne windows, gleamed with illuminations,
as the young King of Scotland, James V.
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