Telesummit and Awakening the Warrior Spirit Meditation

I was very happy to be a part of the Embrace the Goddess Telesummit, and thought I would share the meditation that I offered as part of the presentation.  You can hear the entire presentation and the guided meditation here:  http://www.mcssl.com/app/?Clk=5026589 (after entering you email you will receive an a link to all the speakers presentations).

I also plan on recording some guided meditations so, so stay tuned for that!  

                                            

 

                               Awakening the Warrior Spirit

Take a deep breathe.  Allow your arms and legs to relax.  Take another deep cleansing breathe.  See your self surrounded by a brilliant white light, and know that you will be safe and protected on our journey.  

You find yourself walking on a grassy path.  It winds across the sun lit landscape.  Off in the distance you can see an earthen mound covered in rich green grass rise above the landscape.  There is something about this place that calls to you, although you don’t know why.  Somehow you feel that all you have experienced in your life, all the trials you have faced, had lead you to this path, and is leading you to that distant mound.

 You continue walking and the mound begins to grow larger. You notice high above you a crow is circling, almost as if it is watching your progress.

You continue onward, spiraling up and up to the top of the mound.  As you reach to top you see a lagre stone that rises up from the center of the mound.  As you approach the stone you feel waves of power radiating from it, as if it is connected and rooted to the center of the earth.  And you realize this is the Hill of Tara, and this is the stone of Fal before you, the place where Celtic kings drew power and became one with the goddess of the land.  It seems to call out to you.  You feel that if you just reached out your hand at touched this magickal stone that you would have the power to achieve anything you desired. 

You begin to reach out your hand, but just before you touch the stone the light begins to fade.  Dark shadows swirl and take shape around you.  Deep in the darkness voices begins to whisper.  They echo every doubt you have ever had, they whisper the things you fear.  You feel unable to move, crippled by the things you hear.

These are all the things that are holding you back in life, all the things that prevent you from being the being of strength that you truly are.  At first you do not recognize the voices, but soon you realize it’s your own voice whispering to you, it is your own face looking back at you from the darkness.  These are your own personal shadows, your inner demons.

 But there is another voice in the darkness.  It is faint, a tiny flame struggling to stay alight, but still there.  You feel it in the beating of your heart, and deep within the core of your very being.  It whispers a name, “Morrigan”  You say it aloud and the flame within grows stronger and the shadows back away.  Again you speak the name “Morrigan!”, the whispers of the shadows stop and falter.  A third time you say the name, “ Morrigan!” you shout it, and as you do a crow calls out above. 

You look up to see the crow fluttering down, and before it touches the ground it begins to transform, until a woman in regal amour stand before you, a feathered cloak across her shoulders, a sword in hand.  Look into her face.  What does she look like?  What color is her hair, her eyes?  The Morrigan is a shapeshifter she can be old or young, fierce or compassionate.  She shifts and changes as the situation demands.  Take a moment to see how she chooses to appear to you.  What face does the Morrigan wear? 

“I am no further away than the beating of your own heart”  She tells you, “  I am the fire that does not die, the bringer of victory, the warrior who will not yield to injustice.  And I am within you.”

“I shall walk beside you, through every hardship, you have only to call my name, and I will be with you.”

“But know this, it is you who must be my champion.  It is you who must fight the battles this lifetime has placed before you.”
She places a hand on either shoulder.  You close your eyes and you feel the power of the Morrigan flow through you.  The flame within ignites from a spark to a great flame.  The warrior spirit is alive and awake within you.

“You have  everything you need within you”  She says.  “Become the here, become the champion, become the warrior.  Claim your life.”  You open your eyes and the Morrigan is gone, but as you look down you see you wear her amour, and grasp her sword in your hand. 

Within you, you feel the strength and fire of a Goddess stirring within you.  The shadows begin to whisper, but this time you face them.  With the Morrigan’s sword you charge into the darkness.  You challenge your inner demons.  As each appears before you, you cut it down, until there is silence.  The battle is won. 

The darkness dissolves and you are once again standing on the hill of Tara before the stone of Fal.  This time you reach out and touch the smooth surface of the stone.  And as you do you whisper an oath, as the kings and queens of old did.  An oath to the Goddess.  Perhaps it’s a promise to reclaim whatever part of your life you have relinquished power in.  To take on whatever challenge you have been too afraid to conquer, to claim your inner strength.  As you speak your oath know you have become the Morrigan’s champion, and she will always walk at your side.

Now take a deep breathe.  Come back to your body.  Take another deep breathe, and move your arms, stretch your legs.  Fully come back to your waking self.    

 

Morrigan Spring Equinox Ritual

   There are several sources of inspirations for this ritual.  Firstly I was asked to put together a ritual involving the Morrigan for the Spring Equinox.  It is one of those seasonal rituals I decided not to put into Celtic Lore and Spellcraft of the Dark Goddess, and is often requested.  Then not long after I was asked to lead a ritual to claim sovereignty.  The ritual wasn’t at first intended to have anything to do with the Equinox but the timing of the event worked out that the two themes became intertwined.

    For myself the Spring Equinox is both a time of balance and renewal.  It’s that time of perfect balance between night and day, when we are just a step away from spring and the sweetness of summer to come.  In my own practices it is also a time to encourage the building energy of growth.  A time to offer a blessing to the land, as it is the source of our own sustenance.  In the past I would leave bird seed and other offering to help the wild life get through that last bit of winter.  In Connecticut, as I am reminded of with yesterday’s snow storm, there is still often snow on the ground, despite the scent of spring is in the air.  Spring isn’t always so apparent this time of year, at least not where I live.  It needs a bit of a helping hand.  This fit nicely with the concept of sovereignty.  In Celtic myth kings gained sovereignty by ritually wedding the goddess of the land.  Essentially the two became one and the same.  What happens to one befalls the other.  When Nuada the king of the Tuatha Dé Danann’s hand is cut off in battle he is no longer allowed to be king, for his blemish will be translated to the land. 

   So this ritual is both about connecting to the land that gives us life and taking up our own inner sovereignty.  To align with our truest Will and take up power within our lives.   Since the Morrigan Devotional Ritual at PantheaCon the four treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann have been on my mind.  And I can think of no better way to connect both to the land and our own sovereignty than working with the  Lia Fái, the stone of destiny that cries out for the true sovereign.  

Morrigan Spring Equinox Ritual

You Will Need:

A large stone or rock (preferably from your own property)

A sword (or athame)

A spear head

A bowl or cauldron

A torc/crown (or whatever symbol you wish to use to represent self-sovereignty)

A cup of mead (with wine or apple juice as a substitute)

 

   If you do not have one of the items to represent one of the four treasures a picture of a sword/spear etc can be used in its place. 

   Cast the circle or create sacred space, in whatever way you prefer.  When you are ready stand in the center of the circle, say:

 

From the four cities the Tuatha Dé Danann learned the art of magick

And came upon perfect wisdom,

With them they brought a sword, a stone,

a cauldron of worth, and a spear for the making of heroes.(1)

 

Hold up the sword towards the east, then place it on the eastern quarter of the altar saying:

 

Here is the bright sword of Nuada,

No one ever escaped the hand that held it

 

Hold up the spear head towards the south, then place it on the southern quarter of the altar saying:

Here is the spear of Lugh,

No battle was ever won against it

 

Hold up the cauldron towards the west, then place it on the western quarter of the altar saying::

Here is the cauldron of the Dagda,

No host ever left it unsatisfied

 

Hold up the stone towards the north, then place it on the center of the altar (as you will be working primarily with this item) saying:

Here is the Lia Fái of the Morrigan

It never spoke save when a king or queen was upon it

 

 

  Stand with your hands upraised.  If working in a group choose who will invoke the Morrigan, while the rest of the group chants Ard banríon which is modern Gaelic for high or great queen (thanks Órfhlaith for that!.  If you are doing a solitary ritual you may wish to spend a few minutes chanting after to saying the following invocation: 

  

 

Morrigu

Who is the living land

Who is the heart of the tribe

Who dwells in the center of self

The torc of power, the honey mead cup you offer us

Great Queen come now to us!

 
 

When you are ready stand before the altar, saying:

 

We stand at the threshold, on the cusp of a new cycle

Where dark gives way to light

Where winter gives way to spring

The land is restored, what had been barren will produce fruit

What was dead shall be reborn anew

At this time of balance we come to renew ourselves

To draw forth strength from the land,

And to lend our strength to it in turn

 

   Hold your hands over the stone.  Close your eyes and take a deep breathe.  See a light deep within the land beneath your feet.  A light that radiates from the center of the planet, a fire that fills all living things, including yourself.  See this light rising up, until it shines through the stone on the altar, filling it.  When you are ready say: 

Beneath the peaceful heavens lies the land.

Resting beneath the bowl of the bright sky.

The land lies, itself a dish, a cup of honeyed strength, there, for the taking,

Offering strength to each

There it lies, the splendor of the land.

The land is like a mead worth the brewing, worth the drinking.

It stores for us the gifts of summer even in winter.

It protects and armors us, a spear upon a shield (2)

 

Here is the strong place, at the center of our being, at the center of the land

Here is the Lia Fái

Here is the bestowing of sovereignty

May it be blessed nine times eternal!

 

  Place the torc (or whatever you are using as a symbol of sovereignty) on the stone.  If working in a group, place each participants item around the stone or have the items touching the stone in some way. 

   

   Take the cup and hold it above the altar.  See the Morrigan filling it with her strength, imbuing it with the gift of sovereignty.  When you are ready say:

 

 

I drink of the honey mead cup

I shed the husk of winter

A new balance is struck within and without

I drink of the strength of kings and queens

I drink deep of the Morrigu

   Put the torc on, saying:

 

I take up the mantle of sovereignty

I embrace and am aligned with my truest Will

 

 Place your hand on the rock.  (If working in a group have participants place a hand on the ground.)

 

As it is with the king so it is with the land

As is with the queen so it is with the land

As I have been blessed, so I send me blessings out into the world

May my work be to my benefit and others!

 

  Spend a few moments sending healing loving energy into the land that sustains us and into the world that we live in. 

  Thank the Morrigan and close the circle in whatever manner you wish.  Leave an offering outside to both the Morrigan and the land.  Bird seed or some other offering that would benefit the land around you would be appropriate.  

 

 

 

 

_______________________
 

(1) Based on text from the Yellow Book of Lecan, although the spear was originally described as for the killing of great champions

(2) Parts of this chant is taken from one of the poems spoke my the Morrigan.  Poem B: Section 166, Lines 819  as translated by Chris Thompson which can be found here: 827http://storyarchaeology.com/2013/01/27/poems-of-the-morrigan/Interpretation

 

A Storm of Crows....

 

 

   A couple of years ago when Morrigu’s Daughters was still fairly new I had a vivid dream, the kind of dream you wake from and aren’t really sure which world is the reality and which the dream.  The part that stuck with me the most was seeing the sky full of ravens, so many it blotted out everything else except this storm of black feathers.  In the dream I was one of the ravens, and when I woke up my fiancé said I sat strait up and complained to him that my wings were gone.  Thankfully he’s the kind of guy who shrugs the weird things I say off as me being me.  I came across the post I wrote about it a few days ago on the Morrigu’s Daughters website, while looking for something else, and its been back on my mind ever since.  At the time I took it to mean in part that we were gathering her “ravens” together, as the site had been growing a lot at the time.  And I thought it was ironic that many of us used “raven” in some form or another as part of our screen names for the site.  We really were, and are, her own little flock of ravens.  Here is what I wrote at the time:

“I hold a black feather in my hand. As I move I brush the soft tip of the  feather along the ground, as if casting a circle. I move in an arch tracing a pattern on the ground, but it is not a circle as I first though, instead I spiral closer and closer to an unseen center, tracing the pattern of a labyrinth or a spiral on the earth. Where the feather touches a black line appears, like black ash on the pale ground, or ink on ivory skin. The symbol is important, and all my concentration goes into etching it. As I move closer and closer to the center I begin to change. I no longer hold the feather, it is part of my arm and soon my arms become black wings, and I am some strange combination of bird and woman. Reaching the center of the spiral I feel like I have reached the center of my being, or perhaps the center of the universe. There is a stillness here, and I feel complete, whole. I raise my hands/wings upward and the transformation is complete. I lift into the sky as a raven. I fly for a long, long time, simply enjoying the feeling of freedom flying brings. Then there is someone below me. I circle around a clearing.  I feel drawn to glide closer and closer.  A woman stands in the clearing, her hand upraised stirring the air as if it were a cauldron. Her hand is human, but along it are black feathers, sprouting from her arm down to her back. She  is naked save for a black cloak with a beak like hood pulled down over her head, below it I see her lips tilt upwards in a secret smile. She is a strange combination of bird, woman and Goddess and I know immediately it is the Morrigan. She has never appeared in this way before.  She is usually either a woman or a crow/raven, or at times transformed from one to the other. Regardless I simply know it is Her. Around me I notice other dark shapes fill the sky, other black birds circle her, although I know on some level that they are no more birds than I am, despite the shape I wear. There are so very many.  The air is thick with them.  The sky is filled with storm a cloud of ravens, and it is these clouds she stirs with her outstretched hand. I fly down to the woman and when I touch the ground I am myself again. A silent understanding passes between us and I see in my mind’s eye the birds who circle over head, I see them spread out across the world, I see them filled with the Morrigan’s light and I see them doing amazing things, spreading a light within them to others. In my mind’s eye it looks like a soft blue light, pulsing like a brilliant aura around the Morrigan, and up to the birds, her children, then out to the world. She smiles at me. It’s a wicked kind of smile. Not sinister or bad in any way, but full of mystery, guile and secrets.  Only the Morrigan can smile that way. She kisses me on the brow and I wake up.”

   Today I had a very corvid filled day.  This morning three crows flew by the front of the building I work in.  The front of the building is mostly glass and they were very close, creating this streak of black whooshing by, accompanied by this chorus of loud hoarse cawing.  It scared the heck out of someone walking into the building, which made me laugh.  I felt the Morrigan’s presence the whole day, but she wasn’t quite done getting my attention.  As I drove home I drove past the town park.  Its just a little strip of green with a playground along Candlewood lake.  I drive past it everyday.  I might see the occasional crow there, or even a raven once in a while, but nothing like the gathering that greeted me as I drove by today.  Every tree was filled with crows.  Every single one.  They were everywhere I looked, and the sound of them all calling out was all I could hear.  I literally stopped the car and parked, and just watched them in awe.  The sound of so many corvid voices, all calling out at once echoed through me. The dream came flooding back to me.  A gathering of crows, a flock, a herd, a mob, an army of the Morrigan’s children gathered together. 

   I walked around the park for a little bit, sat on one of the benches by the lake and watched them.  I quietly chanted “Morrigu, Morrigu, Morrigu…..” over and over to myself.  It was a cold day, with some snow still on the ground, and there was no one in the park save myself and crows.  I thought of all the people who had gathered together to honor Her at the PantheaCon ritual I had attended, I thought of other rituals where Her children have gathered together, I thought of all the sisters on Morrigu’s Daughters, I thought of all the people who have emailed me or talked with me about being drawn to her, I thought of how she is calling her children together.      

  In my mind I tell Her  “Tell me what to do, and I will do it.’’  The reply comes immediately.  “Be a Power.”  The same message I received from Dagda (see my previous post for more on this).  The Morrigan is gathering her Tribe, She is calling to us more than ever before.  She is calling her heroes, her champions.   An army of ravens.  There is work to be done. 

  But what is the work?  What is she rallying us to?  I think in lettering her into our hearts, in letting her transform us, we in turn begin to transform the world around us.  The world certainly needs it.  And all who stands before the Morrigan leave transformed.   


* Above artwork by Larry Vienneau 

The Cauldron of the Dagda

 

    (Cauldron of Bounty, shows a stone basin found inside the Eastern

passage of the central mound at Knowth.)

 

“From Muirias was brought the cauldron of Dagda;
no company would go from it unsatisfied.”
-Lebor Gabala Erenn

   The cauldron is a symbol we find woven throughout Celtic mythology.  It always seems someone either has a magickal cauldron, is trying to steal one, or is on a quest to find one.  This past week at PantheaCon it was a symbol that kept popping up for me.  Part of the Coru priesthood’s Four Treasures workshop was a guided meditation in which we worked with the energy of the four treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann, one being the cauldron.  In my own mediation both the cauldron and spear came through very strongly.  I could see the spear in vivid detail, its wood carved with intricate knots (which had me inspired to pull out my wood burning tool as try making a ritual spear that looks like it!), I felt draw to it, along with a need to hold it at the ready.  For me it symbolized my journey on the warrior path.  I also felt a strong pull toward the cauldron, which surprised me a little.  I’m a girl who likes her swords, which is apparent to anyone who has seen the large number of them in my house.  Part of me expected to be drawn in some way to the sword, but in the mediation it felt present but off in the shadows to me.  The cauldron drew me in, it felt deep and vibrant, inviting me to hold it in my hands.    

   The next day one of the workshops I was planning on attending filled up so I went to another one instead.  Ironically enough it was about the Cauldron and the Grail by the lovely Vivianne Crowley.  At the end of the workshop there was another guided meditation which started out fine until to put it mildly it got “hijacked”.  In both my own practice and in teaching meditation and pathworking I find this can happen quite often.  You start going through a guided landscape, then suddenly the pathworking/mediation takes on a life of its own.  The instigator of said hijacked meditation was Dagda.  So instead of continuing to listing to Vivianne’s voice, with it’s lovely accent, guide me, I followed Dagda into an earthen mound.  You might think that as a Priestess of the Morrigan I would work with Dagda, as they are often linked in mythology.  But I’ll admit he has never been a deity that came through very strongly to me in the past.  It has always been Lugh and Cernunnos who called to me.  But be that as it may there he was, a mixture of humor and jovialness with a kingly presence, beckoning me onward.  Once in the mound he held up a copper cauldron and breathed upon its contents in a ritualistic manner.  He held it out to me and said “Be a Power.”  I use a capital “P” because that word had weight to it.  Then I took the cauldron and drank from it, its liquid seeping into my bones, into my flesh, and into my spirit.  Then Vivianne’s voice came back to me and I was being called back.

   What I find interesting about the cauldron is that while we think of it as an inherently feminine object, namely representing the womb, in Irish lore it’s almost always possessed by a male figure.  We have Dagda and his cauldron that no host can leave without being satisfied and filled to contentment. The smith god Goibniu possessed a cauldron of healing, which could restore slain warriors to life.  Lugh’s spear could only be soothed from its “battle furry” by being dipped in three cauldrons.  What some would see as the ultimate symbol for femininity is almost always possessed by a male.  In Welsh mythology the pattern continues.  There is Bran and his cauldron of rebirth, and Arthur who quests for the cauldron in The Spoils of Annwn.  Even the brew of the cauldron of Cerridwen, whose cauldron and its story we are perhaps the most familiar with, is made for a male (her son), then later stolen by another boy who transformed into Taliesin.  I find there to be a nice symmetry to the idea of the masculine principle leading one to its polar opposite.  In his article on the cauldron Michael Ragan (http://www.danann.org/library/symb/cauld.html) suggests that no one can possess the cauldron/grail and that it is not possessed by these male figured but protected and held in trust by them.  Either way these male figured seem to be our initiators and guides to the mysteries of the cauldron.

   When it comes to Dagda’s cauldron I keep coming back to the lines from the Book of Invasions, “No company would go unsatisfied.”  It does not say it produces a particular thing, only that it satisfies all who come to it.  On one level it is the cauldron that provides for the people, a symbol of wealth and fertility.  But on the spiritual level, it is the vessel that nourishes the soul.  It shifts and changes and become what we need the most.    

   We’ll see where this works takes me, but for now it seems I’ll continue onward where Dagda leads me.  Should be an interesting journey.       

PantheaCon: The Heart is Our Nation Morrigan Devotional

 

 

 

“While I can breath I will take my stand,

The heart is the only nation.”

 

-Lyric from The Heart is the Only Nation, Ruth Barrett & Cynthia Smith

 

 

  I hear singing.  I find myself humming the melody in my waking hours, I hear it mixing and interwoven with a rhythmic chant in my dreams. Sometimes it is a quiet whisper, other times a mighty roaring sound. Rituals and their energy tend to stay with you long after all the participants have left, the offerings have been made and the invocations have ended. I’m use to it. I’ve felt it before - especially where the Morrigan is concerned. But something about The Heart is Our Nation: A Morrigan Devotional ritual at PantheaCon will stay with me for a long time. I’m a New England Pagan, which means there aren’t that many Pagans that live nearby (at least comparatively to other parts of the country). Although I do go to many festivals and gatherings they are nothing on the scale of PantheaCon, and there is something awe inspiring about a room full of a hundred plus Pagans chanting, shouting, then finally screaming the Morrigan’s name. The Morrigu’s presence was so palpable in the room I could feel it thrumming through me. At one point we all came close, hand in hand, and sang the last few lines of The Heart is the Only Nation (just want to give a little shout out to Amelia Hogan- your singing was beautiful that night!) and shouted out what we were willing to stand up and fight for. I could feel the energy of our combined voices and Will as waves of energy rippling towards the center of the circle, being received by the Morrigan. There was nothing tame about the ritual, from the spear and sword play fighting that went on as participants entered the ritual space, to the fierce shouts of our voices and hearts. The energy of it was raw and primal, and sliced right to the bone – just as the Morrigan does. My words don’t do it justice, but many I spoke to afterwards felt similarly. We called upon kinship and sovereignty, and over the last few days I find myself feeling and becoming more aware of the threads that tie us all together.

     I also felt the need to wear my torc to the ritual. It’s a plain piece with black onyx ends, but for me it represents my own inner sovereignty on a deep level. I blessed it when I underwent my priestess initiation ritual, and later when I did my warrior dedication ritual. It’s been with me over the course of many years, and I have changed much since the first time I wore it and called to the Morrigu. I became very aware (that’s the best way I can describe it) of it around my neck during much of the ritual. Of both the weight and freedom sovereignty bestows. Over the past several months much of the work I’ve been doing with the Morrigan and others has been about sovereignty. And I find myself thinking that kinship and sovereignty are connected. We have to claim our own sovereignty, see our own sacredness, feel the urge to stand up and fight for what is important in our lives to really value and find kinship.

    I had planned on going to the Hekate ritual that was planned a few hours after, as Morrigan and Hekate are two of the three main Goddesses a group I am part of work with. But after I left the Morrigan ritual it felt wrong to do anything to disturb the energy I felt humming through me. I ended up sitting and talking to a friend for a few hours, before we went to watch Morpheus embody the battle crow in the Faces of the Goddess belly dance performance. (And all I can say Morpheus is Wow! I can trip over my own feet, wish I could dance like that!) But looking back it was the perfect way to ground the energy of the night, sitting with a friend in kinship, sharing experiences, and honoring the ties that bind us.

Kings Arise to Battle!

   If you’ve read a lot of translations of Celtic stories you not doubt have encountered numerous passages that end in “……..”.  Sometimes there is good reason for these frustration gaps in stories or poems.  The original text may have been damaged for example.  But other times these “……” are parts of difficult text that have simply not been translated into English.  There is one particular “…..” that has always particularly frustrated me.  It’s a part of the Cath Maige Tuired were the Morrigan appears to strengthen and rally the warriors of the Tuatha Dé Danann.  In all the English translation texts she says “Kings arise to battle!”  and then those annoying dot, dot, dots, appear.  Well what did she say after that?  How does the Great Queen inspire the hosts in the middle of the fray?  I’ve always wondered what was in that deleted part.  Luckily I came across someone who went about translating some of that difficult text.  If you haven’t already check out their wonderful blog/podcast, Story Archeology. http://storyarchaeology.com/2013/01/27/poems-of-the-morrigan/

   There are several things I find interesting about the Morrigan’s speech.  While much of it is her describing the battle, and stating that it will be both bloody and the stuff sung of by bards, there are a few lines that stand out.  She tells us “I see all who are born [in the] blood-zealous vigorous battle”.  Well a battlefield is a rather odd place to be talking about birth.  Could it mean she is saying one is not truly alive until one has done battle?  Or perhaps the warriors are born into the spirit world as they fall in battle, reflecting her role as a psychpomp. 

 

   I also like the line “In the mossy margins / the helpful raven drives / strife to our hardy hosts.”  While mostly self-explanatory I think it says a great deal about the Morrigan’s nature within the battle.  She is the helpful raven who brings victory to those who favors and strife to the enemy.  She is victory to some and terror to others. 

 

Poem A: Section 137, Lines 683-693

Translation by Isolde Carmody:

"Kings arise to [meet] the battle

Cheeks are seized

Faces [honours] are declared

Flesh is decimated,

Faces are flayed

 [incomplete word] ?? of battle are seized

Ramparts are sought

Feasts are given

Battles are observed

Poems are recited

Druids are celebrated

Circuits are made

Bodies are recorded

Metals cut

Teeth mark

Necks break

 [A hundred] cuts blossom

Screams are heard

Battallions are broken

Hosts give battle

Ships are steered

Weapons protect

Noses are severed

I see all who are born

 [in the] blood-zealous vigorous battle,

raging [on the] raven-battlefield [with] blade-scabbards.

They attempt our defeat

over our own great torrents

Against your attack on the full [compliment] of Fomoire

In the mossy margins;

the helpful raven drives

strife to our hardy hosts

mustered, we prepare ourselves to destroy

To me, the full-blooded exploits are like

shaking to-and-fro of hound-kills"