Folklore

"The hoarse Banshee, with dismal yell,
Thrice walked the graveyard round,
And thrice from the ruin on Knockanbaan,
Made woods and rocks resound.
The howling wolf from Evenney's cliff,
Roar'd wildly through the gale;
And the shrieking owl from Dreenagh* wood,
Told forth the fatal tale.
A gentle heart in sorrow sunk,
Hung over the grass-grown tomb,
And oft she wished for that silent bed,
But she wished a night too soon.
O'Donnell's flag shall be stained in blood'
That never was stained before,
And De Borgos' eagle shall flap her wing,
Red red with M'Quillan's gore."

The McQuillan's of Dunluce have been traced back to the de Borgo family who came to England at the time of William the Conqueror. Around 1540 a bitterness developed between the Mcquillans and O'Cahans, who controlled the Roe Valley with their allies the O'Donnells. The tragedy of this conflict was intensified by the love between Laura O'Donnell and Finn McQuillan. In a book entitled The M'Donnell and the Norman de Borgos Archibald M'Sparran describes a fierce battle between the opposing sides here at Drenagh in the vicinity of the Drumachose old Church.

The legend seems reminiscent of stories told all over the world, the tragic end to the fending of the montagues and the Capulets and the star cross Loras of Isle Maree on the West coast of Scotland. Suffice to say Finn dies in the battle and Laura on finding Finn's body lies down beside him and dies of a broken heart.

The passage below taken from Aechibald M'Sparrans book describes Finn's death, Laura's grief and her ultimate end.
Quote from The M'Donnell and The Norman de Borgos
by Archibald M'Sparran.

There is a further legend that involves the McCausland family who now live at Drenagh. The tradition of the family is to name their eldest sons Conolly and Marcus in alternate generations and it is said that no Marcus will ever find the grave of Finn McQuillan. The photograph of the grave is taken by Conolly Patrick who presently lives at Drenagh. He remembers his father Marcus (who never found it) telling stories of being taken to see it with his father Conolly Robert and never finding it. Apparently Conolly Robert went there frequently because of the quiet tranquillity to be found sitting by the Cairn perched above a great bend in the Curly Burn. Conolly Robert said that he never found the Cairn until his own father Maurice Marcus (who also never found it) had died.

When the wind from the north through the alders is groaning,
A voice oft is heard deeply sighing and moaning;
'Tis the sprite of the mountain at evening returning,
Who fills the long glen with a sighing and mourning;
While the moon from the zenith does silver them over,
And green grows the bed of this maid and her lover.
The lambkins in spring may be seen feeding nigh them,
On primrosy banks where the stream murmurs by them
And the pipe of the red-breast proclaims in deep sorrow.
That here rests M'Quillan 'long side of his Laura.