Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
291 . Song—The 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.