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Walpurgisnacht Invocation II
On this night the White Lady runs.
On this day she flees the Wild Hunt
In the guise of a white deer,
Her hoofprints flee along the track,
For she is Spring's creature, and the Winter
Is far behind, chasing her, trying to bring her down.
But we will not let her fall,
We will not let her be caught,
We will not let ourselves be trapped
In the winter's sadness,
For all things must come to an end,
And the green season is upon us.
Sheaf of grain in her hand,
She rides her broom like a steed,
Sweeping the winter away before her,
While the Wild Hunt bays at her heels,
Until the very dogs of the Hunt turn aside
And run instead at her side,
Whining for her attention,
Putting their noses into her hand,
And she has conquered them
As she will conquer the year.
Hail, Lady of the unknown name,
Waelbyrga, Waluburg, Holda's child,
We who have run from our foes
And yet found that the best defense
Is to turn them into friends,
We salute you!
From the "Pagan Book of Hours",
Order of the Horae
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