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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
Durst never cast his net,
Nor ever swallow in its waves
Her passing wing would wet.

The cattle from its ominous banks
In wild alarm would run,

Though parch'd with thirst, and faint beneath
The summer's scorching sun.

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
The rooted pine would shake,
The powerless storm unruffling swept
Across the calm dead lake.

And ever then when death drew near
The house of Arlinkow,
Its dark unfathom'd waters sent
Strange music from below.

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
So fair could Finland boast;
Her parents loved the Maiden much,
Young EBERHARD loved her most.

Together did they hope to tread
The pleasant path of life,
For now the day drew near to make
Donica Eberhard's wife.

The eve was fair and mild the air,
Along the lake they stray;
The eastern hill reflected bright
The tints of fading day.

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;
Her full dark eyes express
In many a glance to Eberhard
Her soul's meek tenderness.

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,
And loud he call'd for aid,
And with a wild and eager look

Gazed on the lifeless Maid.

But soon again did better thoughts
In Eberhard arise,

And he with trembling hope beheld
The Maiden raise her eyes.

And on his arm reclined she moved
With feeble pace and slow,

And soon with strength recover'd reach'd
The towers of Arlinkow.

Yet never to Donica's cheek

Return'd the lively hue:

Her cheeks were deathy white and wan,
Her lips a livid blue.

Her eyes so bright and black of yore
Were now more black and bright,
And beam'd strange lustre in her face
So deadly wan and white.

The dog that gambol'd by her side,
And loved with her to stray,
Now at his alter'd mistress howl'd,
And fled in fear away.

Yet did the faithful Eberhard

Not love the Maid the less;

He gazed with sorrow, but he gazed
With deeper tenderness.

And when he found her health unharm'd
He would not brook delay,

But pressed the not unwilling Maid
To fix the bridal day.

And when at length it came, with joy
He hail'd the bridal day,

And onward to the house of God
They went their willing way.

But when they at the altar stood,
And heard the sacred rite,
The hallow'd tapers dimly stream'd
A pale sulphureous light.

And when the Youth with holy warmth
Her hand in his did hold,
Sudden he felt Donica's hand

Grow deadly damp and cold.

And loudly did he shriek, for lo!
A Spirit met his view,
And Eberhard in the angel form
His own Donica knew.

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- 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,
Gleam gaily on the Rhine.

And many a one from Waldhurst's walls
Along the river stroll'd,

As ruffling o'er the pleasant stream
The evening gales came cold.

So as they stray'd a swan they saw
Sail stately up and strong,

And by a silver chain he drew
A little boat along,-

Whose streamer to the gentle breeze
Long floating fluttered light,
Beneath whose crimson canopy
There lay reclined a knight.

With arching crest and swelling breast
On sail'd the stately swan,

And lightly up the parting tide
The little boat came on.

And onward to the shore they drew,
Where having left the knight,
The little boat adown the stream
Fell soon beyond the sight.

Was never a knight in Waldhurst's walls
Could with this stranger vie;
Was never a youth at aught esteem'd
When Rudiger was by.

Was never a maid in Waldhurst's walls
Might match with Margaret;
Her cheek was fair, her eyes were dark,
Her silken locks like jet.

And many a rich and noble youth
Had strove to win the fair;
But never a rich and noble youth
Could rival Rudiger.

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Cold horror crept through Margaret's blood,
Her heart it paused with fear,
When Rudiger approach'd the cave,
And cried, « Lo I am here!»>

A deep sepulchral sound the cave
Return'd « Lo I am here!»>

And black from out the cavern gloom
Two giant arms appear.

And Rudiger approach'd, and held
The little infant nigh:

Then Margaret shriek'd, and gather'd then
New powers from agony.

And round the baby fast and close
Her trembling arms she folds,
And with a strong convulsive grasp
The little infant holds.

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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,
And thence into my fingers trickled;
Then to my pen, from whence immediately
On paper I did dribble it daintily.

JASPAR was poor, and vice and want
Had made his heart like store;
And Jaspar look'd with envious eyes
On riches not his own.

On plunder bent abroad he went
Toward the close of day,
And loiter'd on the lonely road
Impatient for his prey.

No traveller came-he loiter'd long,
And often look'd around,
And paused and listen'd eagerly
To catch some coming sound.

He sate him down beside the stream
That cross'd the lonely way,

So fair a scene might well have charm'd
All evil thoughts away:

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
Upon the poplar trees,

Whose shadow on the stream below
Play'd slowly to the breeze.

He listen'd-and he heard the wind
That waved the willow tree;
He heard the waters flow along,
And murmur quietly.

He listen'd for the traveller's tread,
The nightingale sung sweet,—
He started up, for now he heard
The sound of coming feet;

He started up and graspt a stake,
And waited for his prey;

There came a lonely traveller,
And Jaspar crost his way.

But Jaspar's threats and curses fail'd
The traveller to appal,

He would not lightly yield the
Which held his little all.

purse

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