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.