The lady young, which did lament This cruel cursed strife, For very grief dyed that day, 155 A maiden and a wife. An hundred men that hapless day Did lose their lives in that same fray, And 'twixt those names, as many say, Is deadly strife still biding. 160 FAIR MARGARET OF CRAIGNARGAT. "Craignargat is a promontory in the Bay of Luce. Though almost surrounded by the Barony of Mochrum, it was long possessed by a branch of the family of Macdowall, which was probably our heroine's surname.--On the head of Fair Margaret's lovers, it may be remarked, that the Agnews of Lochnaw are a very ancient family, and hereditary sheriffs of Wigton. The Gordon mentioned was probably Gordon of Craighlaw, whose castle was situated about five miles from Craignargat, in the parish of Kirkcowan, considered so remote before the formation of military roads, that the local proverb says,--'Out of the world, and into Kirkcowan.' The Hays of Park dwell on the coast, about six miles from Craignargat; but it is singular that the lady is not complimented with a Dunbar as her lover, the Place of Mochrum, as the old town is called, being only two miles from her reputed residence." Sharpe's _Ballad Book_, p. 71. Fair Marg'ret of Craignargat Was the flow'r of all her kin, And she's fallen in love with a false young man, Her ruin to begin. The more she lov'd, the more it prov'd 5 Her fatal destiny, And he that sought her overthrow Shar'd of her misery. Before that lady she was born, Her mother, as we find, 10 She dreamt she had a daughter fair, That was both dumb and blind. But as she sat in her bow'r door, A-viewing of her charms, There came a raven from the south, 15 And pluck'd her from her arms. Three times on end she dreamt this dream, Which troubled sore her mind, That from that very night and hour She could no comfort find. 20 Now she has sent for a wise woman, Liv'd nigh unto the port, Who being call'd, instantly came, That lady to comfort. To her she told her dreary dream, 25 With salt tears in her eye, Hoping that she would read the same, Her mind to satisfy. "Set not your heart on children young, Whate'er their fortune be, 30 And if I tell what shall befal, Lay not the blame on me. "The raven which ye dreamed of, He is a false young man, With subtile heart and flatt'ring tongue, 35 Your daughter to trepan.