Wayfarers will wonder…warriors will be dismayed
At the renewal of the conflicts I, Gwydion, have made!
For under the tongue-root a fight most dread
Will rage, and another, behind in the head.

I have plundered the fern,
Maeldrew’s secrets I have spied.
Old Math Ap Mathonwy knows no more than I!

Now the Beech tops have sprouted,
Have sprouted of late,
Are changed and renewed from their withered state.
And as the Beech prospers, my spells and litanies
Will entangle the Oak tops—the hope of the trees!

You birches, very noble, have armed yourselves but late…
A sign not of cowardice, but of your high estate.
Now Beith Boibel—awake!

You Rowan, mystical tree…lost in dreams,
Loth Luis.
Hear me now though sacred wood.
Battle for Albion—battle for good!

You alder, hot of head…
First into battle, front line dread.
Fearn Forann—enemy dead!

You Willow, might water man…
Tardy with Luis, charm what you can.
Saille Saliath, Lunar Lord—Save now our land!

You Ash, cruel tree…turn not aside
A foot’s-breadth ye, straight at the heart fly free
Nuin Neiagadon—spear shaft be!

You Hawthorn, mighty chieftain...
With your brother unbeloved, May-time whitethorn
Woeful dancer.
Huathe Huiria—Call down your scorn!

You Oak, swiftest foot-beat…
Stout guardian of the door. Heaven-ringer, earth-rung
Duir Daibhaith—your name is every tongue.

You Holly, dark green man…
Armed with spearpoints, wounding the hand.
Tinne Teilmon—Resolute stand!

You hazel, skillful arbiter…
Salmon-friend, weaver of dreams.
Coll Cae—forge all streams!

You Apple, laughing in pride…
For the Gorchan of Maeldrew, by the rock side.
Quert Kaliap—blessed guide!

You Vine, with your henchmen the Elms…
Exhulted and wrathful to the rulers of realms.
Muin Muriath—entangle helms!

You Ivy, great in your prime…
Be a slayer of many at this charmed time.
Gort Gath—Empowered by rhyme!

You Reed, swift to pursue…
Skillful and slender, straight never bending…
Ngetal Ngoimar—fly ever-trye!

You Blackthron, strongest chieftain…
Bitter bearer of ill fruit; with your sister unbeloved,
Straif Stru—grant the cause your battle suit!

You Elder, slow to burn…
Standing valiant ‘mid fires that singe: war-friend of the Yew,
Fighting fringe—Ruis Riuben, ‘tis your turn!

You Fir, uncouth and savage…
Untamed wood, you smash and ravage.
Ailim Achab—be deadly in your mirth!

You Furze, ill-behaved…
Until you are subdued; pipes of gold or brooms of old,
Ohn Oise—let none escape and none elude!

You Heather, health consoler…
Confort the weary, toil-spent folk.
Ur Urith—our purple yoke!

You Poplar, long-enduring…
Battle-weary and much broke;
Staunchest ally,
Eadha Essu—splinter all and battle smoke!

Hear me Yew, final wood…
Standing glum at fringe of fight;
Dower-scattering
Ioho Iachim—poison bough, burn and bite!