Thy dimpling cheek and deep-blue eye,
Where tender thought and feeling lie!
Thine eyelid like the evening cloud
That comes the star of love to shroud!
Each witchery of soul and sense,
Enshrin'd in angel innocence,
Combin'd to frame the fatal spell—
That blest—and broke my heart—Farewell!
Logan Braes.
[This beautiful song is the production of John Mayne, author of the "Siller Gun," "Glasgow, a poem," &c. Mayne was a native of Dumfries, but spent the early part of his life in Glasgow, where he served an apprenticeship as a compositor under the celebrated printers, Foulis. He afterwards removed to London, and was long connected there with the Star daily newspaper. He died on the 14th March, 1836. "Logan Braes" was first printed in the Star Newspaper on the 23d May, 1789, and we believe consisted originally of only the first two stanzas, to which, indeed, the song, in singing, is generally limited. The four additional stanzas first appeared in the Pocket Encyclopedia of Songs, published at Glasgow in 1816, and are probably not by Mayne. The tune of "Logan Water," to which this and the two following songs are adapted, is of considerable antiquity, and, (before the production of Mayne) used to be sung to words of by no means a scrupulous character, beginning,
Ae simmer night, on Logan braes,
I help'd a lassie on wi' her claes,
First wi' her stockings, and syne wi' her shoon, &c.]
"By Logan's streams that rin sae deep,
Fu' aft wi' glee I've herded sheep;
Herded sheep, or gather'd 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, an' Logan braes.
"Nae mair at Logan kirk will he
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 an' fair I come alane,
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me, an' Logan braes!
"At e'en, when hope amaist is gane,
I dauner out, or sit alane,
Sit alane beneath the tree
Where aft he kept his tryst wi' me.
O! cou'd I see thae days again,
My lover skaithless, an' my ain!
Belov'd by frien's, rever'd by faes,
We'd live in bliss on Logan braes."
While for her love she thus did sigh,
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 has blythsome days
An' playfu' skip on Logan braes?"
"What can I do but weep and mourn?
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 clasp'd her in his arms,
And said, "I'm free from war's alarms,
I now ha'e conquer'd a' my faes,
We'll happy live on Logan braes."
Then straight to Logan kirk they went,
And join'd their hands wi' one consent,
Wi' one consent to end their days,
An' live in bliss on Logain braes.
An' 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 an' Logan braes."
For ever, Fortune.
[The following words are by James Thomson, author of the Seasons, and they appear in the Orpheus Caledonius so far back as 1725, attached to the tune of Logan Water.]
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love,
And, when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part—
