Morrígan to the Brown Bull, from the Táin Bó Cúailnge

 

Dark one are you restless
            do you guess they gather
to certain slaughter
            the wise raven
groans aloud
            that enemies infest
the fair fields
            ravaging in packs
learn I discern
            rich plains
softly wavelike
            baring their necks
greenness of grass
            beauty of blossoms
on the plains war
            grinding heroic
hosts to dust
            cattle groans the Badb
the raven ravenous
            among corpses of men
affliction and outcry
            and war everlasting
raging over Cuailnge
            death of sons
death of kinsmen
            death        death  !

Raina Gentry