Bid us sigh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish—the soul away;
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone.
But busy, busy, still art thou,
To bind the loveless joyless vow,
The heart from pleasure to delude,
And join the gentle to the rude.
For once, oh, Fortune, hear my prayer,
And I absolve thy future care;
All other blessings I resign,
Make but the dear Amanda mine.
Logan Water.
[The following are Burns's words to the tune of Logan Water. They were written four years after the appearance of Mayne's song, and sent to Thomson's collection. Burns was ignorant of Mayne's production at the time, but had heard the burthen of it,—
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes,—
and adopted the lines as a fragment of an old song.]
O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide,
That day I was my Willie's bride;
And years sinsyne ha'e ower us run,
Like Logan to the summer sun:
But now thy flowery banks appear
Like drumlie winter, dark and drear,
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.
Again the merry month of May
Has made our hills and valleys gay;
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
The bees hum round the breathing flowers:
Blythe morning lifts his rosy eye,
And evening tears are tears of joy:
My soul, delightless, a' surveys,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush,
Amang her nestlings sits the thrush;
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil,
Or wi' his sang her cares beguile:
But I, wi' my sweet nurslings here,
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer,
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
O, wae upon you, men o' state,
That brethren rouse to deadly hate!
As ye make many a fond heart mourn,
Sae may it on your heads return!
How can your flinty hearts enjoy
The widows tears, the orphan's cry?
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie hame to Logan braes!
Sailor and Shepherdess.
[This appeared in one of the early Noctes Ambrosianæ of Blackwood's Magazine (the Royal Number of 1822.) It is probably from the pen of Professor Wilson.]
SAILOR.
When lightning parts the thunder-cloud,
That blackens all the sea,
And tempests sough through sail and shroud
Ev'n then I'll think on thee, Mary.
SHEPHERDESS.
I wrap me in that keepsake plaid,
And lie down amang the snaw;
While frozen are the tears I shed,
For him that's far awa, Willie!
SAILOR.
We sail past monie a bonnie isle;
Wi' maids the shores are thrang;
Before my e'e there's but ae smile,
Within my ear ae sang, Mary.
SHEPHERDESS.
In kirk, on every Sabbath-day
For ane on the great deep,
Unto my God I humbly pray—
And while I pray, I weep, Willie.
SAILOR.
The sands are bright wi' golden shells,
The groves wi' blossoms fair;
And I think upon the heather-bells,
That deck thy glossy hair, Mary.
SHEPHERDESS.
I read thy letters sent from far,
And aft I kiss thy name,
And ask my Maker, frae the war
If ever thou'lt come hame, Willie.
