Bride of our hearth
Bless this place
With fire that burns for us.
Bride of our streams
Of wells and water courses
Asperge our land
Bride of the candles
Lit for your remembrance
Bright be your blessings
As the Sun climbs higher
In his Winter rising.
Bride of our company
Of links and friendship
Across Brigantia, the isles
Of your peoples:
Veil us within the bounds of belonging.
Brigid, Bríg, Bride, Brigantia;
Birch, beith, bedw, betula -
Bright boles break the dark of winter
Buds swell on branches of pubescens and pendula.
Deep wells springing with rising waters,
Sunlight growing as snowlight falters,
Swift streams tumbling over mountain boulders
Swelling through valleys to meet wide rivers.
So fills the cup that she will bear
To the feast of the brightening of the year
As across these islands by each name we call her:
Brigid, Bríg, Bride, Brigantia.