In Finland there is a Castle which is called the New Rock, moated about with a river of unsounded depth, the water black, and the fish thereia 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 Hierarchies of the Blessed Angels; a Poem by Thomas Heywood, printed in folio by Adam Islip, 1635. HIGH on a rock whose castled shade In ancient strength majestic stood 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 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 There lay reclined a knight. With arching crest and swelling breast And lightly up the parting tide And onward to the shore they drew, The little boat adown the stream Was never a knight in Waldhurst's walls Was never a youth at aught esteem'd Was never a maid in Waldhurst's walls And many a rich and noble youth 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, And Jaspar crost his way. But Jaspar's threats and curses fail'd He would not lightly yield the purse Awhile he struggled, but he strove With Jaspar's strength in vain; Beneath his blows he fell and groan'd, And never spake again. Jaspar raised up the murder'd man, And plunged him in the flood, And in the running water then He cleansed his hands from blood. The waters closed around the corpse, And cleansed his hands from gore, The willow waved, the stream flow'd on, And murmur'd as before. There was no human eye had seen And soon the ruffian had consumed One eve beside the alehouse fire When in there came a labouring man He sate him down by Jaspar's side For spite of honest toil, the world His toil a little earn'd, and he But sickness on his wife had fallen, |