Luyện nghe bài hát Fete Champetre

FETE
(Robert Burns)
O, wha to Saint Stephen's House,
To do our errands there,
O, wha will to Saint Stephen's
O, th' merry of Ayr, man?
Or ye send a man-o-law?
Or ye send a sodger?
Or him wha led Scotland a'
The meikle
Come, will ye court a lord,
Or buy a o' lairds, man?
For and Honour pawn their word.
Their vote be Glencaird's, man.
Ane them coin, ane gies them wine,
Anither gies clatter;
Anbank, wha guess'd the taste,
He gies a Champetre.
When Love and Beauty heard the
The gay amang, man,
Where, flowers, and busking bowers,
They heard the sang, man:
A vow, they seal'd it a kiss,
Sir Polities to
As alone, the patent bliss,
To hold a Champetre.
Then Mirth on gleesome wing,
O'er and dale she flew, man;
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk spring,
Ilk and shaw she knew, man
She summon'd every sprite,
sports by wood or water,
On th' bonie of Ayr to meet,
And this Fete Champetre.
Cauld Boreas, wi his crew
Were bound to like kye, man;
And Cynthia's ear, o fu,
Clamb up the sky, man:
Reflected dwell in the streams,
Or the current shatter;
The western breeze steals the trees
To this Fete Champetre.
How many a sae gaily floats,
sparkling jewels glance, man,
To harmony's notes,
As the mazy dance, man!
The echoing wood, the flood,
Paradise did glitter,
When angels met at Adam's
To their Fete Champetre.
When came there, to mix
And his ether-stane, man,
He circled the magic ground,
But entrance he nane, man:
He blush'd for shame, he his name,
Forswore it, letter,
Wi humble to join and share
This Fete Champetre.
(313)

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