Here now the words of the witches, The secrets we hide in the night, When dark was our destiny's pathway, That now we bring forth into light. Mysterious water and fire, The earth and the wide-ranging air, By hidden quintessence we know them, and will keep silent and dare. The birth and rebirth of all nature, the passing of winter and spring, We share with the life universal Rejoice in the magickal ring. Four times in the year the Great Sabbats returns, and the witches are seen at Lammas and Imbolc Dancing, on May eve and old Samhain. When day time and night time are equal, When sun is at greatest and least, the four lesser Sabbats are summoned and Witches gather in feast. Thirteen silver moons in a year are, Thirteen is a coven's array. Thirteen times as Esbat make merry, For each golden year and day. The power that was passed down the age, Each time between woman and man, Each century unto the other, Ere time and the ages began. When drawn is the magick circle, By sword or athame of power, Its compass between two worlds lies, In land of the shades for the hour. This world has no right then to know it, and world of beyond will tell naught. The oldest of Gods are invoked there, The greatest of magick is wrought. For the two are mystical pillars, That stand at the gates of the shrine, and the two are the powers of nature, The forms and the forces divine. The dark and the light in succession, The opposites of each unto each, Shown forth as a God and Goddess: Of this our ancestors teach. By night He's the wild wind's rider, The Horn'd One, The King of the Woodland, the Dweller of Green Forest Glades. The Master and Mistress of magick, That dwell in the deeps of the mind, Immortal and ever-renewing, with power to free or to bind. And Do What You Will be the challenge, So be it love that harms none, For this is the only rule. By Magick of old, Be it done!
