Oh Dannan brethren,
undiminished Pagans,
at my whisper passed into your crafty solitudes,
like the discarnate voice of wind that breathes through heady mountain grass,
the divulged ecstatic message of desire—
at my whisper gather—

host that Balor slew with his insulting band and pierced through his dark eye with instructed shaft,
so by me stand against the leaguering troops of dark and her mine made by love restore out of their impious hand.

Lugh, stretch forth your arm,—
still from the outside of the camp and from the tent door drive the opprobrious brood,
oh, yet great brother, consult my heart's embattled wish, my soul's desire,
and as from chariot of thy noonward fire, bring me unto my bed
my choice from among women, truly to heal and bless.

Lord Angus, rise anew,
fort-builder, triumpher, lover, come,
where Boinn by your red sedge-girt nest at Brugh
from under spring-green Carberry swells bubbling to renew
her floods of peace—with the blossom-drops
of the apple-tree of Emain indue the verdant lawn—
come that I prevail utterly
that Carberry's wave, with sweet of meadow-floods
shed on, by Tara and Navan
endow the fallow plain.