Page:Now westlin winds.pdf/2



Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns

Bring autumn's pleasant weather;

The moorcock springs, on whirry 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 patridge loves the fruitful fells,

The plover loves the mountains,

The woodcock haunts the lonely dells,

The soaring heron the fountains;

Through 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 every 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!