170 
Autumn. 
(Allegro c spiritoso.) 
Come, gi’eet merry Autumn, she’s heiress of Spring 
Who left her a fortune of Flowers; 
Come, welcome her in, let the Heather-hells ring. 
And the Harehell’s soft music he ours. 
Sing, hey for bright Autumn ! her triumphs we'll speak. 
And love her rich gifts and her honny brown cheek. 
She has wealth all uncoimted; the blossoms of Spring 
Fell fluttering down from the spray. 
But they left in their place each a germ that should bring 
A rich treasure for Autrrrnn to-day. 
Then, hey for the heiress! her treasm-es we’ll seek. 
And love the deep tinge of her honny brown cheek. 
She hath swelling hills girdled with broad belts of gold, 
All waving so bright i’ the sun; 
She hath fruits, fair as jewels, that cannot he told; 
And all this vast wealth may be won ! 
Then, hey for rich Autumn ! and, ere the trees break. 
Go gather the fruit with the bloom on its cheek 1 
