Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Scotland: Vols. VI–VIII. 1876–79.
The Braes of Yarrow
By John Logan (1748–1788)T
When first on them I met my lover;
Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream,
When now thy waves his body cover!
Forever, now, O Yarrow stream!
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow;
For never on thy banks shall I
Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow!
To bear me to his father’s bowers;
He promised me a little page,
To squire me to his father’s towers;
He promised me a wedding-ring,—
The wedding-day was fixed to-morrow:
Now he is wedded to his grave,
Alas, his watery grave in Yarrow!
My passion as I freely told him;
Clasped in his arms, I little thought
That I should nevermore behold him.
Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost,—
It vanished with a shriek of sorrow;
Thrice did the Water Wraith ascend,
And give a doleful groan through Yarrow!
With all the longing of a mother;
His little sister weeping walked
The greenwood path to meet her brother:
They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him all the forest thorough;
They only saw the cloud of night,
They only heard the roar of Yarrow.
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother!
No longer walk, thou lovely maid;
Alas, thou hast no more a brother!
No longer seek him east or west,
No longer search the forest thorough;
For wandering in the night so dark,
He fell a lifeless corse in Yarrow.
No other youth shall be my marrow;
I ’ll seek thy body in the stream,
And there with thee I ’ll sleep in Yarrow!
The tear did never leave her cheek:
No other youth became her marrow;
She found his body in the stream,
And with him now she sleeps in Yarrow.