I call to Dian Cecht, who holds the strength of gods
and men in hand. Son of the good Dagda,
father of children sage and able, in you
do the suffering place their faith. Mender of bones,
easer of ills, the surgeon and the leech
seek your wisdom. Tales are yet told of the wonders
you have worked, of the blessed well Slane that heals
wounds grievous and grim, of the fair silver arm
borne by great Nuada. I pray to you, O knowing one,
share your gift of mind and body hale and whole,
more precious than all the world’s treasures. Dian Cecht,
well-honored god, for me and mine I ask your favor.

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