Poem: “Roslin and Hawthornden” by Henry Van Dyke

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Roslin and Hawthornden

Fair Roslin Chapel, how divineThe art that reared thy costly shrine!Thy carven columns must have grownBy magic, like a dream in stone.

Yet not within thy storied wallWould I in adoration fall,So gladly as within the glenThat leads to lovely Hawthornden.

A long-drawn aisle, with roof of greenAnd vine-clad pillars, while between,The Esk runs murmuring on its way,In living music night and day.

Within the temple of this woodThe martyrs of the covenant stood,And rolled the psalm, and poured the prayer,From Nature’s solemn altar-stair.

Edinburgh, 1877.

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