song

113d

Now westlin winds, and slaught’ring guns
Bring Autumn’s pleasant weather;
And the moorcock springs, on whirring wings,
Amang the blooming heather…

—Robert Burns, “Song, Composed in August”
First published in POEMS, CHIEFLY IN THE SCOTTISH DIALECT (Kilmarnock, 1786)

Pages digitised by the National Library of Scotland

1/3

https://digital.nls.uk/poems-chiefly-in-the-scottish-dialect/archive/74464614#?c=0&m=0&s=0&cv=230&xywh=-1574%2C0%2C5647%2C4185

#Scottish #literature #poetry #song #RobertBurns #18thcentury #nature #environment

SONG
composed in August

Tune, I had a horse, I had nae mair

Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns
Bring Autumn's pleasant weather;

And the moorcock 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.

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.

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!

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 ilka happy creature.

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!

1 0 0 View Post & Replies See Original

Previous Page