The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||
174
THE FÊTE CHAMPETRE
I
O, wha will to Saint Stephen's House,To do our errands there, man?
O, wha will to Saint Stephen's House
O' th'merry lads of Ayr, man?
Or will ye send a man o' law?
Or will ye send a sodger?
Or him wha led o'er Scotland a'
The meikle Ursa-Major?
II
Come, will ye court a noble lord,Or buy a score o' lairds, man?
For Worth and Honour pawn their word,
Their vote shall be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies them coin, ane gies them wine,
Anither gies them clatter;
Annbank, wha guess'd the ladies' taste,
He gies a Fête Champetre.
175
III
When Love and Beauty heard the newsThe gay green-woods amang, man,
Where, gathering flowers and busking bowers,
They heard the blackbird's sang, man
A vow, they seal'd it with a kiss,
Sir Politics to fetter:
As theirs alone the patent bliss
To hold a Fête Champetre.
IV
Then mounted Mirth on gleesome wing,O'er hill and dale she flew, man;
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk glen and shaw she knew, man.
She summon'd every social sprite,
That sports by wood or water,
On th'bonie banks of Ayr to meet
And keep this Fête Champetre.
V
Cauld Boreas wi' his boisterous crewWere bound to stakes like kye, man;
And Cynthia's car, o' silver fu',
Clamb up the starry sky, man:
176
Or down the current shatter;
The western breeze steals through the trees
To view this Fête Champetre.
VI
How many a robe sae gaily floats,What sparkling jewels glance, man,
To Harmony's enchanting notes,
As moves the mazy dance, man!
The echoing wood, the winding flood
Like Paradise did glitter,
When angels met at Adam's yett
To hold their Fête Champetre.
VII
When Politics came there to mixAnd make his ether-stane, man,
He circled round the magic ground,
But entrance found he nane, man:
He blush'd for shame, he quat his name,
Forswore it every letter,
Wi' humble prayer to join and share
This festive Fête Champetre.
The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||