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
Darken'd the lake below,

In ancient strength majestic stood
The towers of Arlinkow.

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.

- 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.

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

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
The blood the murderer spilt,
And Jaspar's conscience never knew
The avenging goad of guilt.

And soon the ruffian had consumed
The gold he gain'd so ill,
And years of secret guilt pass'd on,
And he was needy still.

One eve beside the alehouse fire
He sate as it befell,

When in there came a labouring man
Whom Jaspar kuew full well.

He sate him down by Jaspar's side
A melancholy man,

For spite of honest toil, the world
Went hard with Jonathan.

His toil a little earn'd, and he
With little was content;

But sickness on his wife had fallen,
And all he had was spent.