song posed in august
tune—“i had a horse, i had nae mair.”
now westlin winds and sught&# guns
bring autumn's pleasaher;
the moorcock springs on whirring wings
amang the bloomiher:
now waving grain, wide o'er the pin,
delights the weary farmer;
and the moon shines bright, when i rove at night,
to muse upon my charmer.
the partridge loves the fruitful fells,
the plover loves the mountains;
the woodcock haunts the lonely dells,
the s hern the fountains:
thro' lofty groves the cushat roves,
the path of man to shun it;
the hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
the spreading thorn the li.
thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
the savage and the tender;
some social join, and leagues bine,
some solitary wander:
avaunt, away! the cruel sway,
tyranni's dominion;
the sportsman's joy, the murd&# cry,
the flutt&#, gory pinion!
but, peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear,
thick flies the skimming swallow,
the sky is blue, the fields in view,
all fading-green and yellow:
e let us stray dsome way,
and view the charms of nature;
the rustling , the fruited thorn,
and ev'ry happy creature.
we'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
till the silent moon shine clearly;
i'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
swear how i love thee dearly:
not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs,
not autumn to the farmer,
so dear be as thou to me,
my fair, my lovely charmer!