Fitz-Greene Halleck

Isabel, "To the Author of Alnwick Castle" The New-York Mirror and Ladies' Literary Gazette 4 (24 March 1827) 280.

I have listened, bard, to thy witching lute,
Till rapt in ecstacy—
And my own frail harp would not be mute
Till it spoke of its thanks to thee!

Thy verse shall live for many a day,
Long after thou art dead:
Like thy own "Wild rose of Alloway,"
Which still a fragrance shed

When its stem was withered and its life was past,
And its loveliness and bloom;
Just so thy verse shall far outlast
Thyself — and e'en thy tomb!

Thine is the magic power that steals
So sweetly o'er the heart—
Till it smiles and weeps, and deeply feels
It can't resist thy art.

A potent spell is that of mind,
When joined with poesy:
Like that of beauty — chaste, refined—
In robes of purity!

Then Halleck, hail! — all hail to thee!
Thou hast but few compeers;
Thou art the precious aloe-tree
That blooms in a hundred years!