No small surprise, however, was occasioned in the neighbourhood, when, for several years, no swans made their annual appearance, the idea at last being that they must have died in their native home, wherever that might chance to be.  The yearly visit of the swans of Closeburn had become a thing of the past, when one day much excitement was caused by the return of a single swan, and much more so when a deep blood-red stain was observed upon its breast.  As might be expected, this unlooked-for occurrence occasioned grave suspicions even amongst those who had no great faith in omens; and that such fears were not groundless was soon abundantly clear, for in less than a week the lord of Closeburn Castle died suddenly.  Thereupon the swan vanished, and was seen no more for some years, when it again appeared to announce the loss of one of the house by shipwreck.

The last recorded appearance of the bird was at the third nuptials of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, the first baronet of that name.  On the wedding-day, his son Roger was walking by the lake, when, on a sudden, as if it had emerged from the waters, the swan appeared with the bleeding breast.  Roger had heard of this mysterious swan, and, although his father’s wedding bells were ringing merrily, he himself returned to the castle a sorrowful man, for he felt convinced that some evil was hanging over him.  Despite his father’s jest at what he considered groundless superstition on his part, the young man could not shake off his fears, replying to his father, “Perhaps before long you also may be sorrowful.”  On the night of that very day the son died, and here ends the strange story of the swans of Closeburn.[39]

Similarly, whenever two owls are seen perched on the family mansion of the noble family of Arundel of Wardour, it has long been regarded as a certain indication that one of its members before very long will be summoned out of the world; and the appearance of a white-breasted bird was the death-warning of the Oxenham family, particulars relating to the tragic origin of which are to be found in a local ballad, which commences thus[40]: 

    Where lofty hills in grandeur meet,
      And Taw meandering flows,
    There is a sylvan, calm retreat,
      Where erst a mansion rose.

    There dwelt Sir James of Oxenham,
      A brave and generous lord;
    Benighted travellers never came
      Unwelcome to his board.

    In early life his wife had died;
      A son he ne’er had known;
    And Margaret, his age’s pride,
      Was heir to him alone.

In course of time, Margaret became affianced to a young knight, and their wedding-day was fixed.  On the evening preceding it, her father, in accordance with custom, gave a banquet to his friends, in order that they might congratulate him on the approaching happy union.  He stood up to thank them for their kind wishes, and in alluding to the young knight—­in a few hours time to be his daughter’s husband—­he jestingly called him his son:—­