… “Before Ogma, I swear.
Before Sun and Moon and Stars,
before Sky, Land and Sea, I swear.
Before the Sidhe-Folk, I swear…
O Sidhe-Folk: defenders of the land,
victory and defeat are created in each of you.
What I ask of you in dealing death to the enemy
is not the work of cowards.
Our hosting in this conflict
will defeat the foreigners who have destroyed
the prosperity of the land.
Circling leftward I curse them!
Rod of Aspen
Sod of Death
May the foreigners be hindered.
May fear be heard among them.
The Shadow of Death has taken form.
Ravens will come upon our foe with doom,
and be their shared torment.
Death goes before us to the foe;
they are mournful and doomed.
O, my Warrior Band;
my most warlike host,
in the burning fields of battle,
the Gods will sustain your form from the clouds of the sky.
O you, my Glorious Ones,
a nine-fold brightness is upon us,
through the powerful skill of druids,
my battle fire will not falter until victory is won.
My Troops, greatest of sea-like hosts,
here in the beauty of the land,
a frenzy of battle invites you to embrace death.
With mighty waves of golden, powerful, burning fires,
and battle lust may you seek out your foe upon the field,
embracing death in a frenzy of battle.”