Song, Composed In August.

SONG,

COMPOSED IN AUGUST.

I.

Now westlin winds, and slaught'ring guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather; And 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.

II.

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.

III.

Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, The savage and the tender; Some social join, and leagues combine; Some solitary wander: Avaunt, away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion; The Sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry, The flutt'ring, gory pinion!

IV.

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: Come let us stray our gladsome way, And view the charms of Nature; The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, And ev'ry happy creature.

V.

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 can be, as thou to me, My fair, my lovely Charmer!