Â鶹ԼÅÄ

Ann an seachd ceud deug, seasgad ’s a h-ochd (1768), fhuair Dùghall Bochanan droch naidheachd. Bha e fhathast ann an Dùn Èideann. Ach bha fiabhras air an teaghlach aige ann an Ceann Loch Raineach. Chaidh Dùghall dhachaigh. Ach ghabh e fhèin am fiabhras. Chaochail e. Bha e dìreach caogad ’s a dhà bliadhna a dh’aois.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Bha muinntir Raineach ag iarraidh a thiodhlacadh anns an sgìre acasan. Bha gràdh aca air. Ach thàinig muinntir Bhoth Chuidir. Bha iadsan ag iarraidh a dhust a thoirt don sgìre aca fhèin. Chaidh Dùghall a thiodhlacadh ann an cladh faisg air Calasraid.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Ann an naoi ceud deug, naochad ’ s a còig (1995) chaidh cuimhneachan a chur an àirde dha aig a’ chladh sin. Chaidh carragh-cuimhne a chur suas dha air an Iomaire Riabhach cuideachd. Tha sin faisg air far an do rugadh e. Agus chaidh carragh-cuimhne a chur an àirde dha ann an Ceann Loch Raineach.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Tha mi ag iarraidh na Litrichean seo air Dùghall Bochanan a chrìochnachadh le bhith a’ toirt sùil bheag air dà laoidh spioradail aige. Bha na laoidhean aige a-mach air uile-chumhachd Dhè. An toiseach, seo a’ chiad agus an treas rann bhon laoidh aige Mòrachd Dhè, air an leantainn leis an rann mu dheireadh:

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý O! Ciod e Dia, no ciod e ainm?

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Cha tuig na h-aingle’ ’s àrd ’an glòir;

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Tha e ’n solas deàlrach falaicht’ uath,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Far nach ruig sùil no smuain ’na chòir.

Ìý

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Cha robh e òg, is sean cha bhi;

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý O shìor’ gu sìor’ gun chaochladh staid;

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Cha tomhais grian no gealach aois

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Oir ’s nithe’ caochlach iad air fad.

Ìý

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Oir ni bheil dadam cosmhail riut

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Am measg na chruthaich thu gu lèir,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý ’S am measg nan daoine ni bheil cainnt

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý A labhras d’ ainm ach d’ fhacal fhèin.

Ìý

Ìý

Agus, airson crìoch a chur air cùisean, seo a’ chiad rann bhon laoidh aige Fulangas Chrìosd:

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý ’S e fulangas mo Shlànaigheir

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý A bhios mo dhàn a’ luaidh,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Mòr-irioslachd an àrd-Rìgh sin

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Na bhreith ’s na bhàs ro chruaidh,

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý ’S e ’n t-iongantas bu mhìorbhailich

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Chaidh innse riamh do shluagh;

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý An Dia bha ann o shìorraidheachd

In 1768, Dugald Buchanan got bad news. He was still in Edinburgh. But his family in Kinloch Rannoch were suffering from fever. He went home. But he contracted the fever himself. He died. He was just 52 years old.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý The people of Rannoch were wanting to bury him in their parish. They loved him. But the folk of Balquhidder came. They wanted to take his remains back to their own parish. Dugald was buried in a cemetery near Callander.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý In 1995 a memorial was erected to him in that cemetery. A memorial was erected to him in Strathyre as well. That’s close to where he was born. And a memorial was erected to him in Kinloch Rannoch.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý I want to end these Litrichean about Dugald Buchanan by taking a brief look at two of his spiritual songs. His songs dealt with the omnipotence of God. To begin with, here are the first and third verses from his song The Majesty of God, followed by the final verse.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý O! What is God, or what is his name?

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý The angels high in their glory don’t understand;

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý He is in a bright light hidden from them,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Where no sight or sound goes near.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý He wasn’t young, he’ll never be old;

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Forever unchanging;

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý The sun or moon won’t measure him

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Because they are all changeable things.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Because there is nothing like you

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Among all your creation,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý And among the people there is no speech

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý That speaks your name except your own word.

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý And, to bring matters to a conclusion, here is the first verse from his song, The Suffering of Christ:

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý It’s the suffering of my Saviour

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý That my song tells of,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý The great humility of that high king

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý In his birth and his terrible death,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý The most amazing thing

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý That was ever told to people;

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý The eternal God