| Mar a gheineadh Criosd am Moire Comhliont air gach laimh, Cobhair thusa mise, mhoime, An gein a thoir bho ’n chnaimh; ’S mar a chomhn thu Oigh an t-solais, Gun or, gun odh, gun ni, Comhn orm-sa, ’s mor m’ othrais, Comhn orm a Bhride! |
As Christ was conceived of Mary Full perfect on every hand, Assist thou me, foster-mother, The conception to bring from the bone; And as thou didst aid the Virgin of joy, Without gold, without corn, without kine, Aid thou me, great is my sickness, Aid me, O Bride! 6 |
| 'La Bride breith an earraich Thig an dearrais as an tom, Theirear "tri-bhliadhnaich" ri aighean, Bheirear gearrain chon nam fonn.' |
The Day of Bride, the birthday of Spring, The serpent emerges from the knoll, 'Three-years-olds' is applied to heifers, Garrons are taken to the fields. 7 |
| 'Chuir Bride miar ’s an abhuinn La na Feill Bride Is dh’ fhalbh mathair ghuir an fhuachd, Is nigh i basan anns an abhuinn La na Feill Padruig Is dh’ fhalbh mathair ghin an fhuachd.' |
Bride put her finger in the river On the Feast Day of Bride And away went the hatching mother of the cold, And she bathed her palms in the river On the Feast Day of Patrick And away went the conception mother of the cold. 8 |
Brighid, Warming Fire to Man and Beast copyright © 2009 by Dillon Carlyon, all rights reserved. Used with permission. Top of Page
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