Here is an excerpt from my Introduction to Folklore: Traditional Studies in Europe and Elsewhere (Kindle, 2014), which addresses some of what you're after; and then I'll post an excerpt from an article I wrote on this subject:

Ceremonies associated with death were perhaps most endowed with ritual and magical practices. Death was an opportunity to ensure the eternal well-being of a friend or relative. It could also provide the living with a powerful supernatural ally. Burial practices in Western Europe generally reflect positive attitudes toward the dead. The farther to the east in Europe one looks, one finds cultures increasingly concerned with the possibility of the dead walking after death. People regarded the deceased as malevolent and dangerous. These generalizations can be easily challenged by contrary examples from various regions; the diversity of humanity is key even though there are regional trends.

There is archaeological evidence of feelings toward the dead. In Western Europe, Neolithic societies buried the deceased in collective mounds where the bones accumulated. People made seasonal gifts at the entrances to these chambers apparently to procure continued good will from the otherworld and to ensure that departed loved ones would have a comfortable existence. In the east, prehistoric burials were typically solitary. It is not uncommon to find remains that were tightly bound in a fetal position. Individuals who seem to have inspired particular concern had rocks shoved into their mouths and large stones placed above their burials. These were apparently intended to keep the dead from talking and from walking from the grave. This sort of archaeological evidence can also be found in burials from historic periods. Again, any effort to see these contrasting traditions as rigidly defined by geography is called to question by exceptions.

The Eastern European tradition of the walking dead has diffused into North America thanks to the literary and cinematic use of the Nosferatu, the vampire. That said, the idea of walking corpses cannot be regarded as entirely an eastern phenomenon: the animated dead also played an important role in medieval Icelandic sagas. Here, the aptrganga maður – the “after walking man” – was especially troublesome and required the bravery and strength of a great hero to end its reign of terror. Chopping off the head of the corpse and placing it between the body’s legs was one of the only ways to put these monsters to rest.

Throughout European peasant society, there was also a great deal of concern about determining when a person had “passed over.” In modern times, it may seem obvious that death occurs when the heart stops. Even today, however, the line between life and death can be vague, occasionally requiring a judicially-determined definition. And even this can become the subject of political squabbling. In the modern world, death can be defined as brain-dead, but then there can be a question about whether or not it is appropriate, ethical, or legal to “pull the plug” to stop the heart from beating when the brain ceases to function. In traditional European society, the line between life and death was far more ambiguous. A person still living by today’s standards could cross over into the domain of death because of a disease, immense old age, or because of a curse. A large catch of fish or some other extraordinary circumstance might also signal the transition even when dealing with a healthy, young person.

In the Icelandic sagas, these people were feigr, or “fated to die.” This is echoed in the archaic English word “fey” as in “he had a fey look about him.” In other words, the person was destined to die, and somehow the shadow of death had already descended over him even though his heart continued to beat. A person who had made this transition withdrew from normal society and activities, preparing to die. Society regarded the person as essentially dead.

In the same way, the dead could do almost as much as the living. Medieval stories tell of the dead walking, talking, eating, and having sex. Obviously, such occurrences were to be feared and there were many rituals and forms of magic intended to keep the dead in the peaceful quiet of eternal sleep. In contrast, there was also a wide variety of magical practices available for the brave few who would call upon the dead to do their bidding.

Here's a second response; this is an excerpt from my article (provided in full, here, so you can cite it if you wish), Ronald M. James, “‘The Spectral Bridegroom’: A Study in Cornish Folklore,” Cornish Studies 20, ed. by Philip Payton (Exeter, UK: University of Exeter, 2013):

The story of “The Spectral Bridegroom” draws on two ideas that are widespread throughout the world. The first is the belief that some dead people feel the need to walk among the living. The second is that supernatural beings, whether ghostly or other types, occasionally have love affairs with people, usually with a tragic result. Both these motifs are practically universal in oral tradition and in turn have inspired a great deal of literature. Because the boundary between folklore and the written word is porous, publications have influenced spoken traditions as much as the reverse is the case.

Tales of ghosts permeate literature and have done so for thousands of years, with examples in Homeric poetry, the Old Testament, continental medieval literature, and Icelandic sagas, again to offer only examples rather than a comprehensive overview. Counterparts in oral tradition are so universal as to suggest that this has been a constant in folklore even before the invention of writing. Although stories of hauntings are widespread, it is a generally accepted that most of the dead keep their repose in peace. And yet, some do not. The Finnish scholar Juha Pentijäinen considers a particular belief in the dead who trouble the living because they lack an acceptable status, and this concept applies nicely to the situation of “The Spectral Bridegroom,” an observation that Uí Ógaín and O’Connor made previously. (Note: Juha Pentijäinen, “The Dead without Status,” from Reimund Kvideland and Henning K. Sehmsdorf, editors, Nordic Folklore: Recent Studies (Bloomington, Indiana, 1989) 128-134, originally appearing in Temenos, 1969; Uí Ógaín and O’Connor cite Pentijäinen in their article. See also Jacqueline Simpson, “Repentant Soul or Walking Corpse? Debatable Apparitions in Medieval England,” Folklore, 114:3 (December 2003) 389-402; and G. David Keyworth, “Was the Vampire of the Eighteenth Century a Unique Type of Undead-corpse?” Folklore, 117:3 (December 2006) 241-260.) The spectral bridegroom cannot rest because of the intensity of the love he and his betrothed shared in life. In addition, many stories underscore the excessive nature of their secret vows and the fact that the lovers often employ magic to bind themselves together. There is an implicit warning here that one should not use supernatural means beyond Christian prayer in an attempt to affect outcomes.

Numerous examples of ill-fated, supernatural romances come to mind in European literature. These sorts of liaisons have inspired medieval stories of sexual encounters between elves and people, ballets featuring enticing swan-women, and modern teen novels and films with rakish vampires. The popularity of broadsheet ballads describing the Spectral Bridegroom draws on this same fascination with what happens when people cross the barrier that separates the natural from the supernatural, all in the name of love.

For what appears to be the earliest manifestation of this motif, one needs to reach back to eleventh-century Scandinavian literature. The medieval collection of verse, The Poetic Edda, includes the “Second Lay of Helgi the Hunding-Slayer/Helgakviđa Hundingsbana II.” This describes how Helgi, a dead hero, returns from the grave on a horse to beckon his beloved, Sigrún, for one last night of conjugal bliss. The document hints at the age of the motif, but it also suggests that initially, the story may have played out differently: Sigrún willingly enters Helgi’s burial mound to lie with him. The poem subsequently relates that the heroine “… lived but a short while longer, for grief and sorrow.” With this, the medieval text returns to the conclusion found in its more recent counterpart. (Note:Lee M. Hollander, translated with introduction and explanatory notes, The Poetic Edda (Austin, 1962) 190-202. Hollander remarks on the importance of this source in relation to the story of “The Dead Bridegroom Carries off his Bride.”) This example suggests that for pre-Christian society, crossing the line into the supernatural -- or at least in this case into the realm of the dead -- for romance was heroic. Nineteenth-century expressions of the story generally assert that no living person would want to enter the grave, even when it is the last resting place of a lover.

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If you're interested in Haitian zonbi I can give some recommended readings, though I don't think that the Book of Revelations as an origin source is a good argument. It is true that right before the revolution, many enslaved Haitians were from the Kongo which was a Catholic nation (see Dubois' book Avengers of the New World and John Thorton's work The Kongolese Saint Anthony to start.) But oral histories and folklore about zonbi likely predate that and were found in regions that weren't Catholic.

Of course Haiti (which is the major influence for zombies as we know them in America today) is a creolized culture that combines Catholicism, various West African traditions, and elements that developed in the New World. By the time we get good scholarship on the subject it is hard to rule out Biblical influences. Still, I think the argument that it all stems from Revelations is pretty suspect. Especially since a figure rising from the dead in a reanimated body predates Christianity. Just look at Osiris.

Anyway, probably the best resource for academic work on the history of zonbi is Elizabeth McAlister. She wrote a peer reviewed piece on the subject which she put up online here. Her work plus the bibliography should give you a good start.

Also, you might have already done this but I'd highly suggest defining zombie and vampire since their manifestation varies cross-culturally and over time. They are both undead - how are you separating the two? What are your operational definitions?

Lastly, /u/itsallfolklore might have some good suggestions for the European stuff.