In Finland there is a Castle which is called the New Rock, monted about with a river of unsounded depth, the water black, and the fish therein very distasteful to the palate. In this are spectres often seen, which foreshow either the death of the Governor, or of some prime officer belonging to the place; and most commonly it appeareth in the shape of a harper, sweetly singing and dallying and playing under the water." << It is reported of one Donica, that after she was dead, the Devil walked in her body for the space of two years, so that none suspected but she was still alive; for she did both speak and eat, though very sparingly; only she had a deep paleness on her countenance, which was the only sign of death. At length a Magician coming by where she was then in the company of many other virgins, as soon as he beheld her he said, Fair Maids, why keep you company with this dead Virgin, whom you suppose to be alive?'-when, taking away the magic charm which was tied under her arm, the body fell down lifeless and without motion. The following Ballad is founded on these stories. They are to be found in the notes to The Ilierarchies of the Blessed Angels; a Poem by Thomas Heywood, printed in folio by Adam Islip, 1635, HIGH on a rock whose castled shade Darken'd the lake below, In ancient strength majestic stood The towers of Arlinkow. The fisher in the lake below The cattle from its ominous banks Though parch'd with thirst, and faint beneath For sometimes when no passing breeze The long lank sedges waved, All white with foam and heaving high Its deafening billows raved; And when the tempest from its base And ever then when death drew near The Lord of Arlinkow was old, One only child had he, DONICA was the Maiden's name, As fair as fair might be. A bloom as bright as opening morn Flush'd o'er her clear white cheek; The music of her voice was mild, Her full dark eyes were meek. Far was her beauty known, for none Together did they hope to tread The eve was fair and mild the air, And brightly o'er the water stream'd The liquid radiance wide; Donica's little dog ran on And gambol'd at her side. Youth, health, and love bloom'd on her cheek; Nor sound was heard, nor passing gale Sigh'd through the long lank sedge; The air was hush'd, no little wave Dimpled the water's edge. Sudden the unfathom'd lake sent forth Its music from beneath, And slowly o'er the waters sail'd The solemn sounds of death. As those deep sounds of death arose, Donica's cheek grew pale, And in the arms of Eberhard The lifeless Maiden fell. Loudly the Youth in terror shriek'd, Gazed on the lifeless Maid. But soon again did better thoughts And he with trembling hope beheld And on his arm reclined she moved And soon with strength recover'd reach'd Yet never to Donica's cheek Return'd the lively hue: Her cheeks were deathy white and wan, Her eyes so bright and black of yore The dog that gambol'd by her side, Yet did the faithful Eberhard Not love the Maid the less; He gazed with sorrow, but he gazed And when he found her health unharm'd But pressed the not unwilling Maid And when at length it came, with joy And onward to the house of God But when they at the altar stood, And when the Youth with holy warmth Grow deadly damp and cold. And loudly did he shriek, for lo! - Divers Princes and Noblemen being assembled in a beautiful and fair Palace, which was situate upon the river Rhine, they beheld a boat or small barge make toward the shore, drawn by a Swan in a silver chain, the one end fastened about her neck, the other to the vessel; and in it an unknown soldier, a man of a comely personage and graceful presence, who stept upon the shore; which done, the boat guided by the Swan left him, and floated down the river. This man fell afterward in league with a fair gentlewoman, married her and by her had many children. After some years, the same Swan came with the same barge unto the same place;-the soldier entering into it, was carried thence the way he came, left wife, children and family, and was never seen amongst them after.. Now who can judge this to be other than one of those spirits that are named Incubi?" says Thomas Heywood. I have adopted his story, but not his solution, making the unknown soldier not an evil spirit, but one who had purchased happiness of a malevolent being, by the promised sacrifice of his first-born child. BRIGHT on the mountain's heathy slope The day's last splendours shine, And rich with many a radiant hue, And many a one from Waldhurst's walls As ruffling o'er the pleasant stream So as they stray'd a swan they saw And by a silver chain he drew Whose streamer to the gentle breeze With arching crest and swelling breast And lightly up the parting tide And onward to the shore they drew, Was never a knight in Waldhurst's walls Was never a maid in Waldhurst's walls And many a rich and noble youth Cold horror crept through Margaret's blood, A deep sepulchral sound the cave And black from out the cavern gloom And Rudiger approach'd, and held Then Margaret shriek'd, and gather'd then And round the baby fast and close The stories of this and the following ballad are wholly imaginary. I may say of each, as John Bunyan did of his Pilgrim's Progress, It came from mine own heart, so to my head, JASPAR was poor, and vice and want On plunder bent abroad he went No traveller came-he loiter'd long, He sate him down beside the stream So fair a scene might well have charm'd He sate beneath a willow tree Which cast a trembling shade, The gentle river full in front A little island made; Where pleasantly the moon-beam shone Whose shadow on the stream below He listen'd-and he heard the wind He listen'd for the traveller's tread, He started up and graspt a stake, There came a lonely traveller, But Jaspar's threats and curses fail'd He would not lightly yield the purse |