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' lads of Ayr, man?
Or will ye a man-o-law?
Or will ye a sodger?
Or him wha led o'er a'
The meikle
Come, ye court a noble lord,
Or buy a o' lairds, man?
For Worth and Honour pawn word.
Their shall be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies coin, ane gies them wine,
gies them clatter;
Anbank, wha the ladies' taste,
He gies a Champetre.
When Love and Beauty the news
The gay amang, man,
Where, gathering flowers, and bowers,
They heard the sang, man:
A vow, they it with a kiss,
Sir to fetter:
As their alone, the bliss,
To hold a Champetre.
Then Mirth on gleesome wing,
O'er hill and she flew, man;
Ilk burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk and shaw she knew, man
She every social sprite,
sports by wood or water,
On th' bonie of Ayr to meet,
And this Fete Champetre.
Cauld Boreas, wi his boisterous
Were to stakes like kye, man;
And ear, o silver fu,
up the starry sky, man:
Reflected beams in the streams,
Or the current shatter;
The western breeze through the trees
To this Fete Champetre.
How many a sae gaily floats,
What jewels glance, man,
To harmony's notes,
As moves the dance, man!
The wood, the winding flood,
Paradise did glitter,
When angels met at Adam's
To hold Fete Champetre.
Politics came there, to mix
And his ether-stane, man,
He round the magic ground,
But found he nane, man:
He blush'd for shame, he his name,
Forswore it, letter,
Wi humble to join and share
festive Fete Champetre.
(313)

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