On the north coast of this isle of the druids
I see cliffs sheer, hear gulls scream incessantly,
I know Celtic monks set off from here
In flimsy wooden ships to Ireland
With only their robes, their faith and their blessed literacy.

Their Latin Christian  inheritance was attacked
But never extinguished by invaders:
Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Frisians
On this magical island the  Celts had fought against the Romans
500 years later they fight baraborous invaders: the English

Tacitus provided the only Roman account of combating the Druids in Britain.
The Celtic army,was led by female druids:
These furies, in robes of deathly black with dishevelled hair, brandished torches
A circle of male Druids cursed the legionnaires, who stood stock still, limbs paralysed
The druids fought to the death, on Ynys Môn there is no retreat, only the Irish sea

Tumble-down gravestones attest to the endurance of the druidical way
Mon' is the Druid goddess, Modron, the Mother of Wales
Sky and sea and land combine so that the shadows and shades
Of this magical isle endure,
Enduring from time to times anon,
With, all along, the echoes of nature's living.song.

                                         https://www.animist.eco/druid-ecology