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.