Donica.

In Finland there is a Castle which is called the New Rock, moated about with a river of unfounded depth, the water black and the fish therein very distateful to the palate. In this are spectres often seen, which foreshew either the death of the Governor, or some prime officer belonging to the place; and most commonly it appeareth in the shape of an 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 that 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 the 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.     DONICA.     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.