I call to fair Latis, lady of the waters,
the seething springs, the rivers rough and raging,
the well dug deep into the earth in which your might
resides. Goddess you are of our blood and of our bliss,
of the wine and the whiskey, the ale and the mead,
the flowing fire that lights our loins, the blessed brew
that grants voice and vision to the bard. O Latis,
ancient one, your people walked the wall of Hadrian
with spear in hand and prayer upon their lips;
in later days they trod the furrowed fields, sowing seed
and hoping for good harvest. Latis of the spur,
of sweetness and wrath, I praise your name, I honor you.

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