Peggy.

I.

Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns
    Bring autumn's pleasant weather;
The moor-cock springs, on whirring 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.

II.

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 cushat roves
    The path of man to shun it;
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
    The spreading thorn the linnet.

III.

Thus ev'ry 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.

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 stray our gladsome way,
    And view the charms of nature;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
    And every happy creature.

V.

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 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!