Tàladh Chrìosda

Tàladh Chrìosda ('Christ's lullaby') is the popular name for the Scottish Gaelic Christmas carol Tàladh ar Slànaigheir ('the Lullaby of our Saviour'). It is traditionally sung at Midnight Mass in the Outer Hebrides in Scotland. The 29 verses of the hymn date from the 19th century and are intended to represent a lullaby for the Christ Child by the Blessed Virgin.

The song was popularised among English speakers in the early 20th century by Marjory Kennedy-Fraser under the title The Christ-Child's Lullaby.

Lyricist

The words are believed to have been written by Fr. Ranald Rankin (Template:Lang-gd), a Roman Catholic priest from Fort William, Scotland shortly before he emigrated to Australia and became a missionary at Little River, Victoria. The hymn was originally titled Tàladh ar Slànuighear ('the Lullaby of our Saviour') and sung to a tune called Cumha Mhic Àrois ('the Lament for Mac Àrois').

The lyric appears as item 10 in the University of Glasgow Library's Bàrd na Ceapaich manuscript where it is entitled Taladh ar Slanuighir (Cuimhneachan do Chloinn Mhuideart) which can be translated as 'Our Saviour's Lullaby (Memento to the Children of Moidart)'. The same manuscript again gives the title for the tune as Cumha Mhic Arois ('Lament for Mac Àrois') and supplies the same information regarding the author of the lyric and, presumably, date of publication – An t-Urramach Raonall Mac Raing. An t-8mh Mios, 1855 (Fr. Ronald Rankin, August 1855).

Donald MacLean's Typographia Scoto-Gadelica (1915) p329 documents the first publication of the hymn as follows.

RANKIN (Rev. RONALD, R.C), THE SAVIOUR'S LULLABY. 1855. "Taladh Ar Slanuighear. Air Fonn 'Cumha Mhic Arois'" and at the end "Cuimhneachan do Chloinn Mhuideart bho Raonall Mac-Raing. An T-8mh Mios. 1855."' 12mo. 4 pp. These copies were circulated among the Parishioners on the emigration of the Author to Australia.

Fr. Rankin was documented by the succeeding parish priest, Fr. Hugh Chisholm, as having served the parish of Moidart between 1838 and 25 July 1855. It is therefore possible that the hymn was composed before the latter date.

In his Moidart: Among the Clanranalds, Fr. Charles Macdonald writes that Father Rankin was "an outspoken advocate in behalf of emigration." Living during the Highland Clearances and the Highland Potato Famine, Fr. Rankin believed that leaving Scotland was the only way for his parishioners to escape the dire poverty under which they lived due to both excessive rents and the constant threat of eviction by Anglo-Scottish landlords. Fr. Rankin therefore urged them to depart for Australia in an assisted emigration scheme by the Highland and Island Emigration Society and promised that he would soon follow.

Fr. Rankin sailed from Scotland on the James Baines to Australia and, in 1857, he was made parish priest of St Michael's Roman Catholic Church in Little River, near Geelong, State of Victoria. Fr. Rankin died there in 1863.

Tune

"Mac Fir Àrois" (the son of the Man of Aros) – i.e., an heir of Aros in the Isle of Mull in Scotland – is traditionally held to have drowned in Loch Friosa (Loch Frisa) in Mull. The Rev. John Gregorson Campbell, in his Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland, pp205–206, states the following.

The heir of Aros, a young man of great personal activity, and, it is said, of dissolute manners, having an opinion of himself that there was no horse he could not ride, was taken by a water-horse into Loch Frisa, a small lake about a mile in length in the north-west of Mull and devoured. This occurred between his espousal and marriage, and the Lament composed by his intended bride is still and deservedly a popular song in Mull. There seems to be this much truth in the story, that the young man was dragged into Loch Frisa by a mare which he was attempting to subdue and drowned. It would appear from the song that his body was recovered.

However, 'Mhic Àrois' appears to be a garbling of a term like 'mac Fir Àrasaig' (son of the Man of Arisaig). The medieval title 'Fear Àrasaig (Man of Arisaig) belonged to Clan Mackintosh. In p168 of An Gaidheal Vol II (1873), Donald C MacPherson wrote the words for what he titled 'Cumha Mhic a Arois. No Cumha Mhic-an-Tòisich.' (the Lament for the Son of a-Arois. Or the Lament for Mackintosh.) The lyric he provides is a variant of the lyric for Cumha Mhic an Tòisich but contains a line 'Dheagh mhic a Arois' (Good son of a-Arois).

The tune of Tàladh ar Slànaigheir bears similarities to the group of songs related to the pipe lament Cumha Mhic an Tòisich (Mackintosh's Lament), which has another alternative title of Cumha Mhic Rìgh Aro (Lament for the Son of the King of Aro). However, these similarities are only in general melodic structure and poetic metre, but not in musical mode or scale. It is therefore possible that the tune used in the Outer Hebrides for Tàladh ar Slànaigheir is a substitute related melody.

In the article The Sources of the Gaelic Hymnal 1893 in The Innes Review Vol. VII (1956) at p108, John Lorne Campbell states the following concerning the melody of Tàladh ar Slànaigheir, which has survived only in the Outer Hebrides.

The tune is said to be "Cumha Mhic Arois" in all these early printed sources, but the hymn is now sung to an air which appears to be derived from the chorus of an old waulking song.

In p155 of Folksongs and Folklore of South Uist (1986), the waulking song concerned is identified by Margaret Fay Shaw as An cuala sibh mar dh'éirich dhòmhs' . Recordings exist of two versions of the tune for this.

The variants of the tune of Tàladh ar Slànaigheir differ in mode from each other in a similar fashion to variants of the song Chaidh mo Dhunnchadh dhan Bheinn (my Duncan went to the hill). In the case of both songs, the major third of the scale is weakened in one melodic variant and strengthened in another.

Lyrics

Scottish Gaelic

The following text is the version published by the Chief of Clan Chisholm, Colin Chisholm (1806–1896), in the Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness Vol XV (1888–89), pp239–242.

p239 TÀLADH AR SLÀNUIGHIR Air fonn – Cumha Mhic Àrois Aleluiah, Aleluiah, Aleluiah, Aleluiah. Mo ghaol, mo ghràdh, a's m' fheudail thu, M' ionntas ùr a's m' èibhneas thu, Mo mhacan àlainn ceutach thu, Chan fhiù mi fhèin bhith 'd dhàil. Aleluiah, &c. Ge mòr an t-adhbhar cliù dhomh e, 'S mòr an t-adhbhar cùraim e, 'S mòr an t-adhbhar ùmhlachd e, Rìgh nan dùl bhith 'm làimh. Ged is leanabh dìblidh thu, Cinnteach 's Rìgh nan Rìghrean thu, 'S tu 'n t-oighre dligheach, fìrinneach Air Rìoghachd Dhé nan gràs. Ged is Rìgh na glòrach thu Dhiùlt iad an taigh-òsda dhuit, Ach chualas ainglean solasach Toirt glòir don Tì as àird. Bu mhòr solas agus iongnadh Buachaillean bochda nan caorach, Nuair chual' iad na h-ainglean a' glaodhaich, "Thàinig Slànaighear thun an t-saoghail." B' e sin an ceòl, 's an naidheachd àghmhor Sheinn na h-ainglean anns na h-àrdaibh, Ag innseadh gun d' rugadh Slànaighear Am Betlehem, am baile Dhaibhidh. p240 B' e sin sgeula binn nam beannachd, Mun aoigh a rinn teàrnadh gu talamh, Chan iongnadh mi bhith mùirneach, geanail. Is gile na ghrian mo leanabh. Dh'fhoillsich reulta dha na rìghrean, Lean iad i mar iùil gu dìleas, Fhuair iad nam achlais fhèin thu, Is rinn iad ùmhlachd dhuit gu làr. Thairg iad òr dhuit, mirr a's tùis, Thug iad adhradh dhuit is cliù, B' e turas an àigh don triùir, Thàinig a shealltainn mo rùin. Ò na dh'innis aingeal Dé dhuinn Gun robh 'n fhoill an cridhe Heroid, Dh'fhalbh sinne leat don Èiphit Ga sheachnadh mun dèanta beud ort. Ò! Heroid a chridhe chruaidh, Cha choisinn d' innleachd dhuit buaidh, 'S lìonar màthair dh’fhàg thu truagh, 'S tu dian an tòir air bàs mo luaidh. 'S fhada, fhada, bho Iudèa, Tèarainte bho d' chlaidheamh geur e, Measg nam mac cha d'fhuair thu fhèin e, 'S fallain, slàn thu, 's fàth dhomh èibhneas. Dh'aindeoin do mhì-rùn] is d' fharmaid, Bidh mo mhac-sa cliùiteach, ainmeil, Cha chuir e ùidh an òr n' an airgead, A rìoghachd cha rìoghachd thalmhaidh. Gur galach, brònach, tùrsach iad An-dràst ann an Ierusalem, A' caoidh nam macan ùra sin, 'S b' e 'n diùbhail 'n cur gu bàs. Tha Rachel an-diugh fo bhròn, A' caoidh a pàistean àlainn, òg, 'S frasach air a gruaidh na deòir Bho nach eil iad aice beò. p241 Tha mi 'g altrum Righ na mòrachd, 'S mise màthair Dhe na glòire – Nach buidhe, nach sona dhomhsa, Tha mo chridhe làn do sholas. Thàinig, thàinig am Messiah, Fhuair na fàidhean uile 'n guidhe, 'S fhada bho 'n b' aill leo thu thighinn, 'S àluinn thu air mo ruighe. A ghnothach gu talamh cha b' fhaoin e, Cheannach sàbhaladh chloinn daoine, 'S e 'm Fear-réite 's am Fear-saoraidh, Is e 'n Slànui'ear gràdhach caomh e. Ciamar a dh'éirich dhomhsa 'Measg an t-sluaigh a bhi cho sònruicht'? 'S e toil a's cumhachd na glòire Mac bhi agam ge d' is òigh mi. 'S mise fhuair an ulaidh phrìseil, Ùiseil, uasal, luachmhor, fhìnealt, 'N-diugh cha dual dhomh bhi fo mhì-ghean, 'S coltach ri bruadar an fhirinn. Cha tuig ainglean naomh no daoine Gu la deireannach an t-saoghail Meud do thròcair a's do ghaoil-sa, Tighinn a ghabhail coluinn daonnda. Bheir mi moladh, bheir mi adhradh, Bheir mi cliù dhuit, bheir mi gaol dhuit, Tha thu agam air mo ghàirdean, 'S mi tha sona thar chloinn daoine. Mo ghaol an t-sùil a sheallas tlàth, Mo ghaol an cridh 'tha lìont' le gràdh, Ged is leanabh thu gun chàil 'S lìonmhor buaidh tha ort a' fàs. M' ulaidh, m' aighear, a's mo luaidh thu, Rùn, a's gaol, a's gràdh an t-sluaigh thu; 'S tus' an Tì a bheir dhoibh fuasgladh Bho chuibhreach an nàmhaid uaibhrich. p242 'S tu Righ nan righ, 's tu naomh nan naomh, Dia am Mac thu 's sìorruidh d' aois; 'S tu mo Dhia 's mo leanabh gaoil, 'S tu àrd cheann-feadhna 'chinne-daonn'. 'S tusa grian gheal an dòchais, Chuireas dorchadas air fògairt ; Bheir thu clann-daoin' bho staid bhrònaich Gu naomhachd, soilleireachd, a's eòlas. Thigeadh na slòigh chur ort failte – Dhèanadh ùmhlachd dhuit mar Shlànui'ear, Bidh solas mòr am measg sìol Àdhamh – Thàinig am Fear-saoraidh, thàinig! Thig a pheacaich, na biodh sgàth ort, Gheibh thu na dh'iarras tu 'ghràsan; Ge d' bhiodh do chiontan dearg mar sgàrlaid Bidh d' anam geal mar shneachd nan àrd-bheann. Hosanah do Mhac Dhaibhidh, Mo Righ, mo Thighearna, 's mo Shlànui'ear, 'S mòr mo sholas bhi ga d' thàladh, 'S beannaichte am measg nam mnàith mi.

Literal English translation p 239 Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah. my love, my love and my treasure are You my treasure and my joy are You my lovely, becoming son are You I'm not worthy of being near You though it's a reason for praise to me it's a great reason for care it's a great reason for homage the King of the Elements being in my arms though You're a feeble baby for sure, the King of Kings are You You're the rightful, true heir of the Kingdom of God of the graces though the King of Glory are You they refused the inn to You but joyful angels were heard giving glory to the Highest One great was the joy and wonder of the poor shepherds of the sheep when they heard the angels crying out "a Saviour has come to the world" that was the music and the joyous news that the angels sang in the heights telling that a Saviour was born in Bethlehem, in the town of David p 240 that was the sweet tale of the blessings about the guest that did descend from heaven it's no surprise that I'm light and cheerful fairer/whiter than the sun is my baby a star manifested for the kings they followed her like a guide faithfully they found You in my clasp and they made obeisance to You [down] to the floor they offered gold to You, myrrh and incense they gave adoration to You and praise that was the journey of joy for the three men who came to see my dearest since the angel of God told us that deceit was in the heart of Herod we left with You for Egypt evading him before harm was done to You O Herod, o hard heart / O Herod of the hard heart your contrivance will not gain you victory many the mothers that you left wretched when you were vehement in pursuit of the death of my dear one far, far from Judea safe from your sharp sword is He among the sons you didn't find Him You are healthy, whole, and a cause of rejoicing to me despite your ill-will and your envy my Son will be renowned, famous He won't show interest in gold or in silver His Kingdom tis not an earthly kingdom wailing, sorrowful, weary are they now in Jerusalem lamenting those new sons their putting to death was a tragedy indeed Rachel today is sorrowful lamenting her lovely young child streaming on her cheek are the tears since she doesn't have them alive p 241 I'm rearing the King of Majesty I'm the mother of the God of Glory how fortunate, how happy for me my heart is full of joy the Messiah has come, has come all the prophets have got their wish they've long desired for You to come You're lovely on my forearm His business on earth, it isn't futile to buy the salvation of the children of men He's the Reconciler and the Redeemer He is the loving gentle Saviour how has it happened that I among the people am so special it's the will and power of Glory to have a son though I be a virgin tis I who have found the priceless treasure worthy, noble, valuable and fine today I'm not disposed to be discontent tis like a dream the truth neither holy angels nor men will understand till the last day of the world the extent of Your mercy and Your love coming to take a human body I give you praise, I give you adoration I give you praise, I give you love I have you in my arms tis I who am happy over the children of men my love the eye that looks mild my love the heart that is filled with love though You be a baby without a strong constitution many are the virtues which on You grow my treasure, my joy and my dearest are You my darling and love and love of the people are You You're the One who brings them liberation from the bond of the haughty Enemy p 242 You're the King of Kings, You're the Holy One of the Holy Ones God the Son are You, eternal is Your age You're my God and my beloved baby You're the high chief of the children of men You're the fair/white sun of hope who banishes darkness You bring the children of men from a sorry state to holiness, illumination and knowledge the peoples would come to welcome You they would pay homage to You as Saviour there will be great joy among the seed of Adam the Redeemer has come, has come come, O sinner, do not fear you'll get what you want of graces though your faults be red like scarlet your soul will be white like the snow of the high hills hosanna to the Son of David my King, my Lord and my Saviour great is my joy to be lulling You blessed among the women am I

See also

• List of Christmas carols

Video footage

• Fiona J. MacKenzie's Rendition
• The Rankin Sisters' Rendition
• Meredith Hall and Le Nef, Montreal, 2004

External links

• Alan Lomax Research Center
• Alan Lomax Research Center (Continued)
• An cuala sibh mar dh'éirich dhòmhs' sung an octave up
• An cuala sibh mar dh'éirich dhòmhs' sung an octave down