songposed in august
tune—“i had a horse, i had nae mair.”
now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns
bring autumn's pleasant weather;
the moorcock springs on whirring wings
amang the blooming heather:
now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,
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 soaring 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 linnet.
thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
the savage and the tender;
some social join, and leaguesbine,