[Published by Mrs. Shelley in “The Keepsake”, 1829.  Mr. C.W.  Frederickson of Brooklyn possesses a transcript in Mrs. Shelley’s handwriting.]

Amid the desolation of a city,
Which was the cradle, and is now the grave
Of an extinguished people,—­so that Pity

Weeps o’er the shipwrecks of Oblivion’s wave,
There stands the Tower of Famine.  It is built 5
Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave

For bread, and gold, and blood:  Pain, linked to Guilt,
Agitates the light flame of their hours,
Until its vital oil is spent or spilt.

There stands the pile, a tower amid the towers 10
And sacred domes; each marble-ribbed roof,
The brazen-gated temples, and the bowers

Of solitary wealth,—­the tempest-proof
Pavilions of the dark Italian air,—­
Are by its presence dimmed—­they stand aloof, 15

And are withdrawn—­so that the world is bare;
As if a spectre wrapped in shapeless terror
Amid a company of ladies fair

Should glide and glow, till it became a mirror
Of all their beauty, and their hair and hue, 20
The life of their sweet eyes, with all its error,
Should be absorbed, till they to marble grew.

NOTE: 
7 For]With 1829.

***

AN ALLEGORY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.]

1. 
A portal as of shadowy adamant
Stands yawning on the highway of the life
Which we all tread, a cavern huge and gaunt;
Around it rages an unceasing strife
Of shadows, like the restless clouds that haunt 5
The gap of some cleft mountain, lifted high
Into the whirlwinds of the upper sky.

2. 
And many pass it by with careless tread,
Not knowing that a shadowy ... 
Tracks every traveller even to where the dead 10
Wait peacefully for their companion new;
But others, by more curious humour led,
Pause to examine;—­these are very few,
And they learn little there, except to know
That shadows follow them where’er they go. 15

NOTE: 
8 pass Rossetti; passed editions 1824, 1839.

***

THE WORLD’S WANDERERS.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.]

1. 
Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light
Speed thee in thy fiery flight,
In what cavern of the night
Will thy pinions close now?

2. 
Tell me, Moon, thou pale and gray 5
Pilgrim of Heaven’s homeless way,
In what depth of night or day
Seekest thou repose now?

3. 
Weary Wind, who wanderest
Like the world’s rejected guest, 10
Hast thou still some secret nest
On the tree or billow?