Â鶹ԼÅÄ

Rugadh am bàrd Gàidhlig Deòrsa mac Iain Deòrsa o chionn ceud bliadhna. B’ e ainm ann am Beurla – George Campbell Hay. Seo pàirt dhen chiad rann dhen dàn aige Còmhradh an Alltain. Tha e mu dheidhinn an Uillt Bheithe faisg air Tairbeart Loch Fìne.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Na h-aibhnichean mòra, ge

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Ìýmòrail, mall, leathann iad

Taimis is Tìobar, ’s an Nìl, ge aost’ a seanchas …

… Mas brèagh’ iad ’s fheudar dhaibh gèilleadh don Allt Bheithe sin,

Ge cian iad no ainmeil, is balbhain gun cheileir iad.

Ìý

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Bha Deòrsa a’ togail air rudeigin a chomharraicheas uillt na Gàidhealtachd – cho fuaimneach ’s a tha iad. Uill, tha iad làn uisge gu math tric!

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Dh’ainmich e diofar aibhnichean thall thairis. Bha e ann an grunn dùthchannan nuair a bha e na inbheach. Bhuineadh athair do Thairbeart Loch Fìne. Thogadh Deòrsa anns a’ bhaile sin, co-dhiù nuair nach robh e air falbh aig sgoil-chòmhnaidh. Dh’fhàs e eòlach air Loch Fìne, agus air na seann daoine aig an robh Gàidhlig fhathast.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Mar a bha mi ag ràdh, rugadh e ann an naoi ceud deug is còig-deug (1915). Bha athair na mhinistear ann an Elderslie ann an Siorrachd Rinn Friù aig an àm. Bha e roimhe sin na mhaighstir-sgoile ann an Sgoil Lìonail ann an Nis ann an Leòdhas. Bha buinteanas aig a bhean, màthair Dheòrsa, do dh’Ìle, Cnapadal agus Tairbeart Loch Fìne. Bha a h-athair-se na mhinistear anns an Eaglais Shaoir. Bha i fhèin leth-fhileanta ann an Gàidhlig.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Chaochail athair Dheòrsa nuair a bha Deòrsa fhèin dìreach ceithir bliadhna a dh’aois. Tha mi cinnteach gun tug sin buaidh mhòr air beatha Dheòrsa. Innsidh mi tuilleadh mu a bheatha an-ath-sheachdain.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Airson crìoch a chur air an Litir an t-seachdain sa, seo agaibh an rann mu dheireadh dhen dàn Còmhradh an Alltain:

Òran buan a’ teàrnadh, gach ràith às na coireachan,

Uair le dùrdan dùsail, uair le bùirich dhoineannaich;

Ìý

Ag èigheach ’s a’ ceasnachadh, ’s ga fhreagairt fhèin na chonaltradh,

A’ brìodal chun na tràghad, a’ tàladh ’s a’ coiteachadh,

A’ tilleadh don mhuir chèir o a chèilidh aig na monaidhean,

Am beòshruth beag as fheàrr na gach sàr abhainn thostach leam.

The Gaelic poet Deòrsa mac Iain Deòrsa was born a hundred years ago. His name in English was George Campbell Hay. Here is part of the first verse of his poem ‘The Conversation of the Wee Burn’. It is about the ‘birch burn’ near Tarbert Loch Fyne.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý The great rivers, although they

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý are majestic, broad and slow,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Thames and Tiber, and the Nile

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý though aged be its story ...

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý ... Though they be beautiful,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý they must yield to that birch

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý burn,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Though they be distant or

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý famous, they are voiceless

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý creatures without melody.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý George was picking up on something that characterizes Highland burns – how noisy they are. Well, they are often full of water!

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý He named different rivers overseas. He was in several countries as an adult. His father belonged to Tarbert Loch Fyne. George was raised in that village, at least when he wasn’t away at boarding school. He became familiar with Loch Fyne, and with the old people who still spoke Gaelic.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý As I was saying, he was born in 1915. His father was a minister in Elderslie in Renfrewshire at tht time. He was before that the schoolmaster at Lionel School in Ness in Lewis. His wife, George’s mother, had connections to Islay, Knapdale and Tarbert Loch Fyne. Her father was a minister in the Free Church. She herself was semi-fluent in Gaelic.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý George’s father died when George himself was just four years old. I’m certain that had a big effect on George’s life. I’ll tell you more about his life next week.

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý To conclude the Litir this week, here is the final verse of the poem ‘The Conversation of the Wee Burn’:

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý An eternal song descending,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý every season from the corries,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý At times with a drowsy droning,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý at times with a tempestuous

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý roaring;

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Crying out and questioning,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý and answering itself in its

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý conversing,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Crooning down to the shore,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý coaxing and enticing,

ÌýÌý ÌýÌýÌýÌýReturning to the dark sea from

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Ìýits ceilidh with the hills,

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Ìýthe little living stream that I love

ÌýÌýÌýÌýÌý Ìýbetter than all the grand silent