How long ancf dreary is the Night.
A Galick Air.
■fir
When T~think on the happy days. How flow ye" move, ye heavy hours,
I fpent wr' you, my dearie; As ye were wae and weary!
And now what lands between us lie, It was na fae ye glinted bv,
How can I be but eerie! When I was wi' my dearie.
And now what lands, &c. It was na fae ye glinted, &c.
Since robb'd of all that charmd my views.