MS: 'The gloomy night is gath'ring fast'

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MS: 'The gloomy night is gath'ring fast'

A Song.- Tune, Roslin Cattle.

The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving o'er the plain:
The Hunter now has left the moor,
The scattred coveys meet secure;
While here I wander, prest with care
Along the lonely banks of Aire.

The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn
By early Winter's ravage torn;
Across her placid, azure sky,
She sees the scowling tempest fly.
The whistling storm affrightens me;
I think upon the raging sea.
Where many a danger I must dare.
Far from the bonie banks of Aire!

'Tis not the surging billow's roar;
'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
Tho Death in ev'ry shape appear.
The wretched have no more to fear:

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