Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
291 . SongThe Captive Ribband
D
’Twas all my faithful love could gain;
The sole reward that crowns my pain? Thro’ fields of death to gather fame, Go, bid him lay his laurels down, And all his well-earn’d praise disclaim. Lose all the bliss it had with you, And share the fate I would impose On thee, wert thou my captive too. Or clasp me in a close embrace; And at its fortune if you grieve, Retrieve its doom, and take its place.