Hunting Songs. &c, SONG

When the rosy morn appearing, Paints with gold the verdant lawn, Bees on banks of thyme disporting, Sip the sweets and hail the dawn.

Warbling birds, the day proclaiming, Carol sweet the lively strain; They sorsake their leafy dwelling To secure the golden grain.

See, content the humble gleaner, Take the scattr'd ears that fall; Nature, all her children viewing, Kindly bounteous cares for all.