Creating Circles and Ceremonies: Rituals for All ... - reading...

Book III: W heel of the Year 217
requires sacrifice of any among us, for the life she bestows is sweet, and in this season
the moon must wax.
The Priest turns to the mirror, holding forth his athame in salute, calling:
Oh laughing, naked Queen, beautiful and yet terrible, thou who, like all women, canst
make and then destroy thy man, and yet are beyond all blame—for thou art the Goddess—be
with us here. As the holy labrys doth have two edges, so also, Lady, do we
know that two faces dost thou have—one as serene, lovely, and clear as thy silver
moon; the other dark and awesome, for thou art as all women.
The Priest salutes with his athame. If one is present who can play a reed-pipe or recorder, he
shall at this point play a very brief minor-key tone. As the Priestess sits on the south edge of the
altar; her arms out like the limbs of the moon, the Priest comes to kneel before her, saying:
Thou who art above all adored, know that thy worshippers do give thee obeisance; the
wise, the strong, the powerful, and the very princes of the world do give honor to thee.
(Sign of the pentacle)
The Priest gives her the sword, which she holds before her like a scepter. He kneels once
more and continues:
The Goddess is kind when it pleases her. Thou who art the day art also the night, and at
times thou dost require blood, and darkness, and strife among men for thy purpose.
(Sign of the pentacle)
The Priest stands back with the men at the edge of the Circle. The Priestess stands, puts
down the sword, and motions for the music to begin. The men stand quickly while the women
follow the Priestess five or more times sunwise about the Circle in a slow, graceful, and
stately dance. Those led by her suddenly turn widdershins and dance and whirl and shout
wildly back five times or more. Each woman returns to her man and stands arms akimbo, while
the Priestess throws a handful of the magical catalyst into the incense brazier. When the
sparks have ceased, she seats herself upon the altar once again, saying:
The life of a year is 13 moons, with every season round. The life of the King shall pass
likewise from birth unto the ground.
The Priestess signals for the music to begin again. The women laughingly watch the men dance
sunwise around the Circle, following the Priest. In the dance, the Priest chants each line (he may
be prompted by the Priestess) and the men repeat, shuffling and stepping in time with the music,
imitating in every manner—physical, mental, and astral—all creatures mentioned in the King’s
chant. They make one circle for each “change,” the mood being light and cheerful.
I am a stag—of seven tines—for strength.
I am a flood—across a plain—for extent.
I am a wind—on a deep lake—for depth.
I am a ray—of the sun—for purity.
I am a hawk—above the cliff—for cunning.
I am a bloom—among the flowers—for excellence.
I am a wizard—who but I brings forth the hilltop’s magic fire?
I am a spear—that roars for blood—in vengeance.
I am a salmon—in a pool—for swiftness.
I am a hill—where poets walk—for wisdom.
I am a boar—strong and red—for power and valor.
I am a breaker—threatening doom—for terror.
I am a sea-tide—that drags to death—for might.
All do sit as the Priest invokes:
Who but I knows the secret of the unhewn dolmen?
He throws a small handful of the magickal catalyst* into the
incense brazier and sits. If it is desired, all may drink wine and rest at this time.
The Priestess stands with arms outstretched and calls: