Second Battle of Moytura

    

Second Battle 

of Magh Tuireadh

Árchú is loose!

The standing stones recall his scent.

Spells have been cast, and secrets kept

Are now arrayed in serried ranks.  

Ravens prowl above the battle lines,

 Shapes shifting against a blazing sky.

Beneath their hungry gaze,

Broken ships lie burning on the shore.

Out of the smoke-thick mist,

Bright warriors rush to ruin or renown,

Borne on speeding chariots

At the dawn of Samhain.

◊

As the mighty armies meet,

Mórrígan whispers words of war

That fire the men of Ireland

To terrible wrath,

And helms of hammered bronze

Are smashed by wizard-swords

Amid the screams of bone-wracked bodies

And the shattering of shields.

◊

A corncrake’s call is silenced

By the uproar of the rout,

And women weep

As the remnants of their tribe retreat.

Danu smiles upon the Plain of Towers,

And the war-horns rejoice,

As the fairest of Fomor fall

Among the blood-flecked flowers.

by John Walter Taylor

© All rights reserved

14 Feb 2012; revised 8 Feb 2024.

Text of The Second Battle of Moytura

Oiche Bhealtaine

On Uisneach Hill, the bale-fires are alight,

and old gods dance upon the wind,

as sparks soar in the night.

The scent of springtime fills the air

on the eve of summer’s rise,

Rich with rowan and hawthorn flowers

and life that never dies.

You can hear the druid’s distant call,

resounding through the years,

that stirs the folk of hollow hills

as celebration nears,

and the fairies of the May Day dawn

charge their cups with morning dew,

to toast your health at Beltane’s feast

in fields of meadow-rue.

 

John Walter Taylor

© All rights reserved

19 April 2015, revised 30 June 2025