Havoc its strain of battles shared death there.
In this a battle after foreigners broke (our) shared settlement
by destruction of it. They will be defeated by hosts.
O Fairy-hosts, land of men on guard,
birds of prey rain down (on them), men without choice.
Be hindered (the) foreigners. Another (the other) company fears,
another company listens, they are very terribly in torment,
dark (sad) men (are they). Roaring brightly nine-fold* are we!
Hurrah and Woe! Left-ward*! O you my beautiful ones!
Sacred will be the sustenance after cloud and flowers
through its powerful skills of wizards.
My battle will not dwindle until (its) end.
Not cowardly my request with (their) encountering me
with a land of rushes laid waste by fire
death’s form established, death on us given birth.
Before (the presence of) the Sídhe with each of them,
before Ogma I satisfy,
before the sky and the earth and the sea*,
before the sun and the moon and the stars*.
O Band of warriors my band here to you
My hosts here of great hosts sea-full
(of) mighty sea-spray (boiling) smelted golden powerful,
conceived, may it be sought upon the field of battle.
Joint death its strain. Havoc its strain.”