This sonnet was written in the same year:
TO EDWIN FORREST.
King of the tragic art! without compeer!
Thy sway is sovereign in the scenic realm;
And where thy sceptre waves, or nods thy helm,
All crowd to be thy royal presence near.
Thou speakest,—we are stilled; the solemn Past,
Rich with grand thought, and filled with noble men
Over whose lives and deeds time’s veil is cast,
Rises to view, and they do live again!