SON G.

COMPOSED IN AUGUST.

Tune,-I had a horfe, I had nae mair.

I.

Now weftlin winds, and flaught'ring guns
Bring Autumn's pleasant weather ;
The Moorcock fprings, on whirring wings,
Amang the blooming heather:

Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,

Delights the weary Farmer;

And the moon fhines bright, when I rove at

night,

To mufe upon my Charmer.

II.

The Partridge loves the fruitful fells;
The Plover loves the mountains;
The Woodcock haunts the lonely dells;
The foaring Hern the fountains :
Thro' lofty groves the Cufhat roves
The path of man to fhun it;

The hazel bush o'erhangs the Thrush,
The spreading thorn the Linnet.

III.

Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
The favage and the tender;

Some focial join, and leagues combine;

Some folitary wander:

Avaunt, away! the cruel fway,

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 ftray our gladfome way,
And view the charms of Nature;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
And ev'ry happy creature.

V.

We'll gently walk, and fweetly talk,
Till the filent moon fhine clearly;
I'll grafp thy waift, and fondly press't,

Swear how I love thee dearly;

Not

Not vernal fhow'rs to budding flow'rs,

Not Autumn to the Farmer, So dear can be as thou to me, My fair, my lovely Charmer!

SON G.

Tune,-My Nanie, O.

I.

BEHIND yon hills where Stinchar flows,

'Mang moors an' moffes many, O, The wintry fun the day has clos'd, And I'll awa to Nanie, O.

II.

The weftlin wind blaws loud an' fhill;
The night's baith mirk and rainy, O ;
But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll fteal,

An' owre the hill to Nanie, O.

III.