“And, gin ye dare your true love win,
    “Ye hae na time to stay.

  “The night it is good Hallowe’en,
    “When fairy folk will ride;
  “And they, that wad their true love win,
    “At Miles Cross they maun bide.”

  “But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane? 
    “Or how shall I thee knaw,
  “Amang so many unearthly knights,
    “The like I never saw.?”

  “The first company, that passes by,
    “Say na, and let them gae;
  “The next company, that passes by,
    “Say na, and do right sae;
  “The third company, that passes by,
    “Than I’ll be ane o’ thae.

  “First let pass the black, Janet,
    “And syne let pass the brown;
  “But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
    “And pu’ the rider down.

  “For I ride on the milk-white steed,
    “And ay nearest the town;
  “Because I was a christened knight,
    “They gave me that renown.

  “My right hand will be gloved, Janet,
    “My left hand will be bare;
  “And these the tokens I gie thee,
    “Nae doubt I will be there.

  “They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
    “An adder and a snake;
  “But had me fast, let me not pass,
    “Gin ye wad be my maik.

  “They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
    “An adder and an ask;
  “They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
    “A bale[C] that burns fast.

  “They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
    “A red-hot gad o’ aim;
  “But had me fast, let me not pass,
    “For I’ll do you no harm.

  “First, dip me in a stand o’ milk,
    “And then in a stand o’ water;
  “But had me fast, let me not pass—­
    “I’ll be your bairn’s father.

  “And, next, they’ll shape me in your arms,
    “A toad, but and an eel;
  “But had me fast, nor let me gang,
    “As you do love me weel.

  “They’ll shape me in your arms, Janet,
    “A dove, but and a swan;
  “And, last, they’ll shape me in your arms,
    “A mother-naked man: 
  “Cast your green mantle over me—­
    “I’ll be mysell again.”

  Gloomy, gloomy, was the night,
    And eiry[D] was the way,
  As fair Janet, in her green mantle,
    To Miles Cross she did gae.

  The heavens were black, the night was dark,
    And dreary was the place;

  But Janet stood, with eager wish,
    Her lover to embrace.

  Betwixt the hours of twelve and one,
    A north wind tore the bent;
  And straight she heard strange elritch sounds
    Upon that wind which went.

  About the dead hour o’ the night,
    She heard the bridles ring;
  And Janet was as glad o’ that,
    As any earthly thing!

  Their oaten pipes blew wondrous shrill,
    The hemlock small blew clear;
  And louder notes from hemlock large,
    And bog-reed struck the ear;
  But solemn sounds, or sober thoughts,
    The Fairies cannot bear.