Many, many years then rolled away, during which Granada was rarely
honored by a royal guest. The palaces of the nobility remained
silent and shut up; and the Alhambra, like a slighted beauty, sat in
mournful desolation, among her neglected gardens. The tower of the
Infantas, once the residence of the three beautiful Moorish
princesses, partook of the general desolation; the spider spun her web
athwart the gilded vault, and bats and owls nestled in those
chambers that had been graced by the presence of Zayda, Zorayda, and
Zorahayda. The neglect of this tower may partly have been owing to
some superstitious notions of the neighbors. It was rumored that the
spirit of the youthful Zorahayda, who had perished in that tower,
was often seen by moonlight seated beside the fountain in the hall, or
moaning about the battlements, and that the notes of her silver lute
would be heard at midnight by wayfarers passing along the glen.
At length the city of Granada was once more welcomed by the royal
presence. All the world knows that Philip V was the first Bourbon that
swayed the Spanish sceptre. All the world knows that he married, in
second nuptials, Elizabetta or Isabella (for they are the same), the
beautiful princess of Parma; and all the world knows that by this
chain of contingencies a French prince and an Italian princess were
seated together on the Spanish throne. For a visit of this illustrious
pair, the Alhambra was repaired and fitted up with all possible
expedition.
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