The book of British ballads . Then did the cheek of EudigerAssume a death-pale hue, And on his clammy forehead stoodThe cold convulsive dew; And faltring in his speech he badeThe Priest the rites delay, Till he could, to right health restord,Enjoy the festive day. When oer the many-tinted sky He saw the day decline,He called upon his Margaret To walk beside the Rhine; And we will take the little babe,For soft the breeze that blows, And the mild murmurs of the streamWill lull him to repose.* And so together forth they went; The evning breeze was mild,And Rudiger upon his arm Pillowd the little
The book of British ballads . Then did the cheek of EudigerAssume a death-pale hue, And on his clammy forehead stoodThe cold convulsive dew; And faltring in his speech he badeThe Priest the rites delay, Till he could, to right health restord,Enjoy the festive day. When oer the many-tinted sky He saw the day decline,He called upon his Margaret To walk beside the Rhine; And we will take the little babe,For soft the breeze that blows, And the mild murmurs of the streamWill lull him to repose.* And so together forth they went; The evning breeze was mild,And Rudiger upon his arm Pillowd the little child. * Now who can judge this to be other than one of thosespirits that are named Incubi ? says Thomas Heywood, in his Notes to the Hierarchies of the Blessed Angels, a poemprinted by Adam Islip in 1635. I have adopted his story,writes Southey, but not his solution, making the unknownsoldier not an evil spirit, but one who had purchased happi-ness of a malevolent being, by the promised sacrifice of hisfirst-born child. Sout
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