Poetry Archives

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.