A Lament for Calum Maclean

Of the many tributes paid to the memory of Calum Maclean on his untimely death on his adopted island of South Uist in 1960, one was a moving lament composed by Donald John MacDonald (1918–1986), styled Dòmhnall Iain Dhonnchaidh. Donald John, who belonged to Peninerine in South Uist and was a son of the outstanding tradition bearer Duncan MacDonald, was an extremely gifted traditional poet and songwriter. MacDonald would go on to win the Bardic Crown at the National Mod in 1948. He was also the author of numerous books and articles such as Fo Sgàil a’ Swastika [Under the Swastika’s Shadow] (2000), detailing his life as a prisoner-of-war after being captured at St Valéry; and Uibhist a Deas [South Uist] (1982), a fascinating local history of the island of his birth and upbringing. Calum Maclean persuaded MacDonald to collect oral traditions from his father and uncle, Neil, and he managed to gather together a collection of over twenty manuscript volumes amounting to around 6,000 pages. An anthology of his poetry entitled Chì Mi was collected and edited by Bill Innes. We are extremely grateful to Bill Innes for kindly allowing his translation of MacDonald’s lament to be published here for the very first time.

Calum Iain MacGilleathain le Dòmhnall Iain MacDhòmhnaill

Dubh an là o bhith grianach,
Chinnich faileas air iarmailt ar n-àbachd.
Trom a’ bhuille ’s gur piantail
A liubhair uirigleadh sgeula do bhàis dhomh.
Ged bha dòchas air mùchadh
Gum biodh e deònaicht’ dhut ùrachadh slàinte,
Nuair thàinig naidheachd na crìche
Gun tig i gearradh nam chridh’ mar gu sàbht e.

’S a Chaluim Iain ’ic Ghilleathain,
Tha ’n-diugh a’ crìonadh fo leathad an t-Hàlin,
Tha carragh-cuimhne nach tuislich
An cridh’, an cuinnseas ’s an cuislean do chàirdean
Air sàr churaidh na tuathadh,
Gràinne-mullaich na h-uaisl’ ann an nàdur;
’S creach do dh’Alba ’s dhan linn seo
Do bhothaig thalmhaidh cho iosal bhith ’n càradh.

’S creach do dh’Alba gu sìorraidh
Thu bhith air falbh as a fianais cho tràth oirnn.
Far na shaothraich thu dian-mhath
Na h-adhbhair gaoil eadar iarmad is cànain.
’S mòr an ulaidh ga dìth thu,
Chriothnaich bunaitean dìlinn na Gàidhlig;
Thuit clach-iuchrach a h-iùil-sa
’S gun fear eil’ ann a dhùineas a’ bheàrna.

Tràth an cùrsa do rèise
Gun chuir thu d’ ùidh ann an euchdan do nàsain.
B’ e do bheachd-sa bu lèirsinnich’
Ann an cleachdaidh, am beasun ’s an gnàthsan.
Le saothair thug thu buaidh dhuinn,
’S gun thog thu bratach ar sluaigh bhàrr an làir dhuinn,
’S bidh linn ri teachd ann ad fhiachaibh
Airson na dìleib ro-fhiachail a dh’fhàg thu.

Do thìr nam beann thug thu biùthas,
Gun dh’innis do pheann a cuid ùisealachd àraid.
Bha spiorad aiteis do dhùthcha
Nad bhallaibh pailt a’ so-dhrùghadh do chnàmhan.
Air feadh Alba ’s an Èirinn
A chaoidh bidh t’ ainm air a leughadh le blàths ann
Mar aoigh, mar oilean, ’s mar uasal,
Mar shamhla duinealais ’s uachdar nan sàr-fhear.

Com na h-onair ’s na h-uaisle;
Gliocas, modh agus stuamachd am pàirt riuth’;
Tuigs’ is foghlam thar chunntais,
Gun robh gach aon diubh nad ghiùlan mar sgàthan;
Samhl’ a’ cheartais nad sheanchas
Nuair bhiodh eachdraidh fo argamaid làidir.
’S na bhuilich Dia ort de bhuaidhean
Cha d’ rinn thu riamh an cur tuathal air àithne.

Leam is urram ro-luachmhor
Gun tug thu buileachadh buan domh dhe d’ chàirdeas.
’S gibht’ an tasgaidh mo smuaintean
Meomhair air aiteas gach uair an co-phàirt riut.
’S a’ ghiorra-shaogail a mhùch thu
Cha d’ fhuair sin aont’ air bhith ’n dùil ri nas àill leinn
Ged dh’eadar sgar i le ùir sinn
Tha spiorad maireann air giùlan cho-bhràithrean.

Ach crìoch gach comann bhith sgaoileadh
Mar a lomar a’ chraobh de cuid bhlàthan.
’S crion clach-ursainn ar n-aonta
Rè ar tursan air saoghal nan sgàil seo;
’S ged tha do cholann fo fhòdaibh
Mo ghuidhe t’ anam bhith ’n glòir anns na h-àrdaibh,
’S à siol a’ mhathais a phlannt thu
Ge meal thu toradh neo-ghann deth do ghràsan.

Calum Iain Maclean by Donald John MacDonald

The sunny day has darkened,
Shading the heavens of our happiness,
Heavy the blow and painful,
Bringing tidings of your death to me;
Although hope had faded
That you would be granted recovery,
When news came of the end
It was a jagged wound to my heart.

O, Calum Iain Maclean,
Today decaying under Hallin’s slope,
An unfailing memorial abides
In hearts, minds and veins of your friends
Of the fine champion of the people
Top-most grain of noblest nature;
Great loss to Scotland and this generation
That you are laid low in earthly rest.

Grievous loss evermore to Scotland –
That you left her scene so early,

Where you worked so diligently
In cause of love for her history and language.
What great treasure she has lost in you
Who stirred up the deep roots of Gaelic,
The keystone fell from her course,
With no one else to fill the gap.

You took early in the course your life,
Interest in the proud deeds of your nation,
Your insight was the keenest
Into lifestyle, qualities and customs.
Your efforts gave us triumph,
Raising our people’s banner on high
Generations will be in your debt
For the priceless legacy you left.

To the land of bens you brought renown –
Your pen wrote of her special distinction –
The joyful spirit of your country
Richly permeated your body and bones.
Ever throughout Scotland and Ireland
Your name will be read with affection
As guest, scholar and noble,
Model of manliness and finest of gentlemen.

Breast of honour and nobility,
Wisdom, good manners with modesty;
Insight and erudition without limit,
Each reflected in your bearing;
You spoke with authority
When history was hotly disputed;
Your God-given virtues
No command could make you betray. 

It was a precious honour for me
That you offered me lasting friendship,
Gifted to the treasury of my thoughts
Memories of happy times shared with you
And the short life that took you,
Did not grant the prospects we hoped for,
But, though the grave separated us,
The spirit lives on in the bearing of brothers.

But each gathering ends in parting,
As blossom is stripped from the tree,
The pillars crumble of our union
In our journeys through this vale of shadows;
Though your body lies in the grave
I pray your soul be in glory above
And that seeds of goodness you planted
Will earn you a rich return of grace.

Trans. by Bill Innes

References:

Bill Innes (ed.), Chì Mi / Dòmhall iain MacDhòmhnaill: The Gaelic Poetry of Donald John MacDonald (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2nd ed., 2001)

Dòmhnall Iain MacDhòmhnaill, ‘Calum Iain MacGilleathain’, An Gàidheal, leabh. LVI, earr. 5 (1961), pp. 53–54

Image: Peninerine, South Uist / Peighinn nan Aoirean, Uibhist a Deas