Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Scotland: Vols. VI–VIII. 1876–79.
Logan Braes
By John Mayne (17591836)“B
Fu’ aft wi’ glee I ’ve herded sheep;
Herded sheep and gathered slaes,
Wi’ my dear lad on Logan braes.
But wae ’s my heart, thae days are gane,
And I wi’ grief may herd alane,
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.
Atween the preachings meet wi’ me;
Meet wi’ me, or when it ’s mirk,
Convoy me hame frae Logan kirk.
I weel may sing thae days are gane:
Frae kirk and fair I come alane,
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.
I dauner out and sit alane;
Sit alane beneath the tree
Where aft he kept his tryst wi’ me.
O, could I see thae days again,
My lover skaithless, and my ain!
Beloved by friends, revered by faes,
We ’d live in bliss on Logan braes!”
She saw a sodger passing by,
Passing by wi’ scarlet claes,
While sair she grat on Logan braes:
Says he, “What gars thee greet sae sair,
What fills thy heart sae fu’ o’ care?
Thae sporting lambs hae blythsome days,
And playfu’ skip on Logan braes.”
I fear my lad will ne’er return,
Ne’er return to ease my waes,
Will ne’er come hame to Logan braes.”
Wi’ that he clasped her in his arms,
And said, “I ’m free frae war’s alarms,
I now ha’e conquered a’ my faes,
We ’ll happy live on Logan braes.”
And joined their hands wi’ one consent,
Wi’ one consent to end their days,
And live in bliss on Logan braes.
And now she sings, “Thae days are gane,
When I wi’ grief did herd alane,
While my dear lad did fight his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.”