Tune—"Robaidh dona gorach."
Dear Myra, the captive ribband's mine,
'Twas all my faithful love could gain;
And would you ask me to resign
The sole reward that crowns my pain?
Go, bid the hero who has run
Thro' fields of d**h to gather fame,
Go, bid him lay his laurels down,
And all his well-earn'd praise disclaim.
The ribband shall its freedom lose—
Lose all the bliss it had with you,
And share the fate I would impose
On thee, wert thou my captive too.
It shall upon my bosom live,
Or clasp me in a close embrace;
And at its fortune if you grieve,
Retrieve its doom, and take its place.