Luyện nghe bài hát Fete Champetre

FETE
(Robert Burns)
O, wha to Saint Stephen's House,
To do our there, man?
O, wha will to Saint House
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, ye court a noble lord,
Or buy a o' lairds, man?
For Worth and pawn their word.
Their shall be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies them coin, ane them wine,
Anither gies them
Anbank, wha the ladies' taste,
He gies a Champetre.
Love and Beauty heard the news
The gay amang, man,
Where, flowers, and busking bowers,
They the blackbird's sang, man:
A vow, seal'd it with a kiss,
Sir to fetter:
As alone, the patent bliss,
To hold a Champetre.
Then mounted on gleesome wing,
O'er and dale she flew, man;
Ilk burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk glen and she knew, man
She every social sprite,
That by wood or water,
On th' bonie of Ayr to meet,
And this Fete Champetre.
Boreas, wi his boisterous crew
Were bound to stakes kye, man;
And ear, o silver fu,
Clamb up the sky, man:
Reflected dwell in the streams,
Or down the current
The western breeze through the trees
To this Fete Champetre.
How a robe sae gaily floats,
What jewels glance, man,
To enchanting notes,
As moves the dance, man!
The wood, the winding flood,
Paradise did glitter,
When angels met at yett
To hold Fete Champetre.
When 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 humble prayer to and share
This Fete Champetre.
(313)

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