Hear now the words of the Witches,
the secrets we hid 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 and keep silent and dare.
The birth and rebirth of all Nature,
the passing of Winter and Spring,
we share in the life universal,
rejoice in the magickal ring.
Four times in the year the Great
Sabbat returns, and the Witches are seen,
at Lammas and Candlemas dancing,
on May Eve and old Halloween.
When day-time and night-time are
equal, when sun is at greatest and least,
the four lesser Sabbats are summoned,
and the Witches gather in feast.
Thirteen silver moons in a year,
are thirteen is the Coven's array,
thirteen times at Esbat make,
Merry for each golden year and a day.
The power that was passed down
the age, each time between woman and man,
Each century unto the other Eve,
time and the ages began.
When drawn is the Magickal Circle,
by sword or athame of power,
its compass between two worlds,
lies in land of the shades for that hour.
This world has no right then to
know it, and world of beyond will tell a night,
the oldest of Gods are invoked
here, the great work of magick is sought.
For the two are mystical pillars,
that stand at the gate of the shrine,
and two are the powers of Nature,
the forms and the forces divine.
The dark and the light in succession,
the opposites each unto each,
shown forth as God and a Goddess,
of this our ancestors teach.
By night he's the wild wind's
rider, the Horned One, the Lord of the Shades,
By day he's the King of the Woodlands,
the dweller in green forest glades.
She is youthful or old as she
pleases, She sails the torn clouds in her barque,
the bright silver Lady of the
Midnight, the Crone who weaves spells in the dark.
The Master and the Mistress of
Magick, that dwell in the deeps of the mind,
immortal and ever-renewing, with
power to free or to bind.
So drink the good wine to the
Old Gods, and dance and make love in their praise,
till Elphame's fair land shall
recieve us, in peace at the end of our days.
And do what you will be the challenge,
So be it love that harms none,
for this is the only Commandment
By Magick of old, Be it Done!
