I quarter-peck of malt.

2 one leg shorter than the other.

3 a round of cheese.

4 cannot.

LASS, GIN YE LO'E ME.

I HA'E laid a herring in saut,
Lass, gin ye lo'e me, tell me now!
I ha'e brewed a forpit o' maut1,
And I canna come ilka day to woo.
I ha'e a calf will soon be a cow;
Lass, gin ye lo'e me, tell me now!
I ha'e a pig will soon be a sow,
And I canna come ilka day to woo.

I've a house on yonder muir,

Lass, gin ye lo'e me, tell me now!
Three sparrows may dance upon the floor,
And I canna come ilka day to woo.
I ha'e a but and I ha'e a ben;
Lass, gin ye lo'e me, tell me now!
I ha'e three chickens and a fat hen,
And I canna come ilka day to woo.

I've a hen wi' a happity leg2,

Lass, gin ye lo'e me, tell me now!
Which ilka day lays me an egg,
And I canna come ilka day to woo.
I ha'e a kebbuck3 upon my shelf,
Lass gin ye lo'e me tak' me now!
I downa eat it all myself;

And I winna come ony mair to woo.

JOHN LOGAN.

1748-1788.

More than one serious charge remains to darken the fame of the whilom friend of Michael Bruce, nevertheless he is entitled to consideration as a man of no small powers. The son of a farmer at Soutra, in Midlothian, he was educated at Edinburgh University, and became one of the ministers of Leith. In his volume of poems published in 1781, he included the "Ode to the Cuckoo" and a number of "paraphrases," or metrical versions of scripture, which on strong evidence are claimed as the productions of Michael Bruce and others. Perhaps the strongest proof against Logan is that he included in his volume two paraphrases-the second and eighteenth of the present authorised version-which had been published in the provisional edition of the "Scottish Paraphrases" in 1745. Bruce is known to have "improved" these two paraphrases for the singing class of his native village in 1764, and the presumption is that Logan, unaware of their real origin, annexed them along with the others in Bruce's MS., which he destroyed.

Logan was one of those appointed to revise the Paraphrases for the Church of Scotland, and he succeeded in inserting several under his own name. His most ambitious production was the tragedy or drama of "Runnimede,” which was acted, but without much success, in Edinburgh. As in the case of John Home, this connection with the stage raised an outcry against him as a minister. At the same time certain personal excesses were alleged against him. He was forced accordingly to retire, and after a short career of literary adventure in London he died of a lingering illness. Several tragedies, lyrics, and lectures on history which he left in MS. have never been printed.

Logan's tragedy of "Runnimede," like most of his authentic poetry, is lacking in force. His two volumes of "Sermons," however, were recommended by Sir Walter Scott, and are still read. Certainly by far his finest poem is "The Braes of Yarrow," though one verse, "She sought him east," &c., is borrowed from the ancient ballad of "Willie drowned in Yarrow."

THE BRAES OF YARROW.

THY braes were bonnie, Yarrow stream,
When first on them I met my lover;
Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream,
When now thy waves his body cover!
For ever 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.

He promised me a milk-white steed,
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.

Sweet were his words when last we met;
My passion I as freely told him :
Clasped in his arms, I little thought
That I should never more behold him!
Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost;
It vanished with a shriek of sorrow:
Thrice did the water-wraith ascend,

And gave a doleful groan through Yarrow.

His mother from the window looked,
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.*

No longer from thy window look-
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother!
No longer walk, thou little maid;
Alas! thou hast no more a brother.

No longer seek him east or west,
And search no more the Forest thorough;
For, wandering in the night so dark,

He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow.

The tear shall never leave my cheek,
No other youth shall be my marrow:
I'll seek thy body in the stream,

And then 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 now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.

* These four lines are borrowed from the old ballad, "Willie drowned in Yarrow."

ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.

THE peace of Heaven attend thy shade,
My early friend, my favourite maid!
When life was new, companions gay,
We hailed the morning of our day.

Ah! with what joy did I behold
The flower of beauty fair unfold,

And feared no storm to blast thy bloom
Or bring thee to an early tomb.

Untimely gone! for ever fled

The roses of the cheek so red;

Th' affection warm, the temper mild,
The sweetness that in sorrow smiled.

Alas! the cheek where beauty glowed,
The heart where goodness overflowed,
A clod amid the valley lies,

And "dust to dust" the mourner cries.

O from thy kindred early torn,
And to thy grave untimely borne,
Vanished for ever from my view,
Thou sister of my soul, adieu!