| NOW westlin winds and slaught’ring guns | |
| Bring Autumn’s pleasant weather; | |
| The moorcock springs on whirring wings | |
| Amang the blooming heather: | |
| Now waving grain, wide o’er the plain, | 5 |
| Delights the weary farmer; | |
| And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night, | |
| To muse upon my charmer. | |
| |
| The partridge loves the fruitful fells, | |
| The plover loves the mountains; | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| The spreading thorn the linnet. | |
| |
| Thus ev’ry kind their pleasure find, | |
| The savage and the tender; | |
| Some social join, and leagues combine, | |
| Some solitary wander: | 20 |
| Avaunt, away! the cruel sway, | |
| Tyrannic man’s dominion; | |
| The sportsman’s joy, the murd’ring cry, | |
| The flutt’ring, gory pinion! | |
| |
| But, Peggy dear, the ev’ning’s clear, | 25 |
| 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; | 30 |
| The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, | |
| And ev’ry happy creature. | |
| |
| We’ll gently walk, and sweetly talk, | |
| Till the silent moon shine clearly; | |
| I’ll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest, | 35 |
| 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! | 40 |
