Luyện nghe bài hát Fete Champetre

FETE
(Robert Burns)
O, wha will to Saint House,
To do our there, man?
O, wha to Saint Stephen's House
O, th' merry of Ayr, man?
Or will ye send a
Or will ye a sodger?
Or him wha led Scotland a'
The Ursa-Major?
Come, will ye a noble lord,
Or buy a o' lairds, man?
For Worth and Honour pawn word.
Their vote be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies them coin, ane gies wine,
Anither gies clatter;
Anbank, wha guess'd the taste,
He a Fete Champetre.
Love and Beauty heard 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 to fetter:
As alone, the patent bliss,
To a Fete Champetre.
mounted Mirth on gleesome wing,
O'er hill and dale she flew,
Ilk burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk glen and she knew, man
She every social sprite,
sports by wood or water,
On th' banks of Ayr to meet,
And keep this Champetre.
Boreas, wi his boisterous crew
Were bound to like kye, man;
And Cynthia's ear, o fu,
Clamb up the starry sky,
Reflected dwell in the streams,
Or down the current
The breeze steals through the trees
To view Fete Champetre.
How many a sae gaily floats,
sparkling jewels glance, man,
To enchanting notes,
As the mazy dance, man!
The echoing wood, the flood,
Like did glitter,
When met at Adam's yett
To hold their 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,
it, every letter,
Wi humble prayer to join and
This festive Champetre.
(313)

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