The Author of This is Ossian, the Son of Finn.
Long are the clouds this night above me;
The last was a long night to me.
This day that drags its weary way
Came from a wearier yesterday.
Each day that comes is long to me:
Such was not my wont to be.
Now there is no fine delight
In battle-field, and fence of fight;
No training now to feats of arms,