Like the elfin Tam Lin, 'The queen o' fairies she caught me In this green hill to dwell,' and these hasty nuptials are a fittingly romantic ending to the summer's poetry.

I am in a mood, were it necessary, to be 'ta'en by the milk-white hand,' lifted to a pillion on a coal-black charger, and spirited 'o'er the border an' awa'' by my dear Jock o' Hazeldean.
Unhappily, all is quite regular and aboveboard; no 'lord o' Langley dale' contests the prize with the bridegroom, but the marriage is at least unique and unconventional; no one can rob me of that sweet consolation.
So 'gallop down the westlin skies,' dear Sun, but, prythee, gallop back to-morrow! 'Gang soon to bed,' an you will, but rise again betimes! Give me Queen's weather, dear Sun, and shine a benison upon my wedding-morn! [Exit Penelope into the ballad-land of maiden dreams.].