How swiftly through heaven’s wide expanse

Bright day’s resplendent colours fade!

How sweetly does the moonbeam’s glance

With silver tint St. Irvyne’s glade!

No cloud along the spangled air,

Is borne upon the evening breeze;

How solemn is the scene! how fair

The moonbeams rest upon the trees!

Yon dark gray turret glimmers white,

Upon it sits the mournful owl;