NOW WESTLIN WINDS,
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!
