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 wings would wet.

  The cattle from its ominous banks

    In wild alarm would run,

  Tho' parched 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 depths did send

    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 fading tints of 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 thro' the long lank sedge,

  The air was hushed, no little wave

    Dimpled the water's edge.

  Sudden the unfathom'd lake sent forth

    Strange music from beneath,

  And slowly o'er the waters sail'd

    The solemn sounds of Death.

  As the deep sounds of Death arose,

    Donica's cheek grew pale,

  And in the arms of Eberhard

    The senseless Maiden fell.

  Loudly the youth in terror shriek'd,

    And loud he call'd for aid,

  And with a wild and eager look

    Gaz'd on the death-pale 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 reclin'd she moved

    With feeble pace and slow,

  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 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 lov'd 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 gaz'd with sorrow, but he gaz'd

    With deeper tenderness.

  And when he found her health unharm'd

    He would not brook delay,

  But press'd the not unwilling Maid

    To fix the bridal day.

  And when at length it came, with joy

    They hail'd the bridal day,

  And onward to the house of God

    They went their willing way.

  And as they at the altar stood

    And heard the sacred rite,

  The hallowed tapers dimly stream'd

    A pale sulphureous light.

  And as 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.

  That instant from her earthly frame

    Howling the Daemon fled,

  And at the side of Eberhard

    The livid form fell dead.

Rudiger.

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 into 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.