O had I ne’er seen thee, my Phely!
O had I ne’er seen thee, my Phely!
As light as the air, and fause as thou’s fair,
Thou’s broken the heart o’ thy Willy.
CCXXVIII.
HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT.
Tune—“Cauld Kail in Aberdeen.”
[On comparing this lyric, corrected for Thomson, with that in the Museum, it will be seen that the former has more of elegance and order: the latter quite as much nature and truth: but there is less of the new than of the old in both.]
I.
How lang and dreary is the night,
When I am frae my dearie;
I restless lie frae e’en to morn,
Though I were ne’er sae weary.
For oh! her lanely nights are lang;
And oh! her dreams are eerie;
And oh, her widow’d heart is sair,
That’s absent frae her dearie.
II.
When I think on the lightsome days
I spent wi’ thee my dearie;
And now what seas between us roar—
How can I be but eerie?