For I ride on the milk-white steed,
And aye nearest the town:
Because I was a christened lad
They gave me that renown.
My right hand will be gloved, Janet;
My left hand will be bare;
And these the tokens I give thee,
No doubt I will be there.
They’ll shape me in your arms, Janet,
A toad, snake, and an eel;
But hold me fast, nor let me gang,
As you do love me weel.
They’ll shape me in your arms, Janet,
A dove, bat, and a swan:
Cast your green mantle over me,
I’ll be myself again.”
The good sister Janet, far from remembering any of the old sins of her brother, wept for joy to know that he was yet among the living. She told no one of her strange dream; but hastened secretly to the Miles Cross, saw the strange cavalcade pricking through the greenwood, and pulled down the rider on the milk-white steed, holding him fast through all his changing shapes. But when she had thrown her green mantle over him, and clasped him in her arms as her own brother Robin, the angry voice of the Fairy Queen was heard.
“Up then spake the Queen of Fairies,
Out of a blush of rye:
‘You’ve taken away the bonniest lad
In all my companie.
‘Had I but had the wit, yestreen,
That I have learned to-day,
I’d pinned the sister to her bed
Ere he’d been won away!’”
However, it was too late now. Wild Robin was safe, and the elves had lost their power over him forever. His forgiving parents and his lead-hearted brothers welcomed him home with more than the old love.
So grateful and happy was the poor laddie that he nevermore grumbled at his oatmeal parritch, or minded his kye with a scowling brow.
But to the end of his days, when he heard mention of fairies and brownies, his mind wandered off in a mizmaze. He died in peace, and was buried on the banks of the Yarrow.