Luyện nghe bài hát Fete Champetre

FETE
(Robert Burns)
O, wha to Saint Stephen's House,
To do our errands there,
O, wha to Saint Stephen's House
O, th' merry of Ayr, man?
Or ye send a man-o-law?
Or will ye send a
Or him wha led Scotland a'
The Ursa-Major?
Come, will ye court a lord,
Or buy a score o' lairds,
For Worth and Honour their word.
Their vote be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies them coin, ane gies wine,
gies them clatter;
Anbank, wha guess'd the taste,
He gies a Champetre.
When Love and Beauty the news
The gay amang, man,
Where, flowers, and busking bowers,
heard the blackbird's sang, man:
A vow, they seal'd it a kiss,
Sir Polities to
As alone, the patent bliss,
To a Fete Champetre.
Then mounted Mirth on wing,
O'er hill and she flew, man;
Ilk burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk and shaw she knew, man
She summon'd every sprite,
sports by wood or water,
On th' banks of Ayr to meet,
And this Fete Champetre.
Cauld Boreas, wi his crew
Were bound to stakes kye, man;
And Cynthia's ear, o fu,
up the starry sky, man:
Reflected dwell in the streams,
Or the current shatter;
The breeze steals through the trees
To this Fete Champetre.
How many a sae gaily floats,
What jewels glance, man,
To enchanting notes,
As moves the dance, man!
The echoing wood, the flood,
Paradise did glitter,
When met at Adam's yett
To their Fete Champetre.
Politics came there, to mix
And his ether-stane, man,
He round the magic ground,
But found he nane, man:
He for shame, he quat his name,
Forswore it, letter,
Wi prayer to join and share
festive Fete Champetre.
(313)

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