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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 Culhat 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 social join, and leagues combine ;

Some solitary wander:
Avaunt, away! the cruel fway,

Tyrannic man's dominion;

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The Sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry,

The flutt'ring, gory pinion !

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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.

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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

Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs

Not Autumn to the Farmer,

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BEHIND

yon

hills where Stinchar flows, 'Mang moors an mosses many, 0, The wintry fun the day has clos'd,

And I'll awa to Nanie, 0.

VO?

II.

The westlin wind blaws loud an' fhill;

The night's baith mirk and rainy, 0; But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal,

An' owre the hill to Nanie, O.

III.

III.

My Nanie's charming, sweet an' young;

Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O: May ill befa’ the flattering tongue o

That wad beguile my Nanie, O.

IV.

Her face is fair, her heart is true,

As spotless as she's bonnie, 0; The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew,

Nae purer is than Nanie, O.

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A country lad is my degree,

An' few there be that ken me, O;

But

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