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The Wiccan Rede poem was first published in 'The Green Egg'
magazine in 1975, The Rede was initially titled,
'Rede of the Wiccae' Submitted by a
celtic traditionalist, Gwynne
Thompson who
received
the poem
from her grandmother
Adriana Porter. Whether the Rede
was written or revised by Porter or Thompson,
or received from a source beyond the two is unkown. Many have
given it precedence over the modern times dating as early back to the 1930's.
But even still the direct source remains unanswered.
Rede Of The Wiccae
As Published, year 1975 in 'The Green Egg Magazine'
Bide the Wiccan laws ye must in perfect love and perfect trust.
Live and let live fairly take and fairly give.
Cast the Circle thrice about to keep all evil spirits out.
To bind the spell every time, let the spell be spake in rhyme.
Soft of eye and light of touch speak little, listen much.
Deosil go by the waxing Moon sing and dance the Wiccan rune.
Widdershins go when the Moon doth wane, and the Werewolf howls by the dread Wolfsbane.
When the Ladys moon is new, kiss the hand to her times two.
When the Moon rides at her peak, then your hearts desire seek.
Heed the Northwinds mighty gale lock the door and drop the sail.
When the wind comes from the South, love will kiss thee on the mouth.
When the wind blows from the East, expect the new and set the feast.
When the West wind blows oer thee, departed spirits restless be.
Nine woods in the Cauldron go burn them quick and burn them slow.
Elder be ye Ladys tree burn it not or cursed yell be.
When the Wheel begins to turn let the Beltane fires burn.
When the Wheel has turned a Yule, light the Log and let Pan rule.
Heed ye flower, bush and tree- by the Lady blessed be.
Where the rippling waters go, cast a stone an truth yell know.
When ye have need, hearken not to others greed.
With the fool no season spend or be counted as his friend.
Merry meet an merry part bright the cheeks an warm the heart.
Mind the Threefold Law ye should three times bad and three times good.
When misfortune is enow, wear the blue star on thy brow.
True in love ever be unless thy lovers false to thee.
Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill an it harm none, do what ye will.
Alternate Ending
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'Tis by the sun that life be won,
And by the moon that change be done;
If ye would clear the path to will,
Make certain the mind be still;
What good be tools without Inner Light?
What good be magic without wisdom-sight?
Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill -
An it harm none, do what ye will.
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The Witches Creed
By Doreen Valiente
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Hear now the words of the witches,
The secrets we hid in the night,
When dark was our destinys pathway,
That now we bring forth into the 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 with 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 Candlemass dancing,
On May Even and old Halloween.
When day-time and night-time are equal,
When sun is at greatest and least,
The four Lesser Sabbats are summoned,
Again witches gather in feast.
Thirteen silver moons in a year are,
Thirteen is the covens array,
Thirteen times at esbat make merry,
For each golden year and a day.
The power was passed down the ages,
Each time between woman and man,
Each century unto the other,
Ere time and the ages began.
When drawn is the magickal circle,
By sword or athame or power,
Its compass between the 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 naught,
The oldest of Gods are invoked there,
The Great Work of magick is wrought.
For two are the 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 a God and a Goddess:
Of this did our ancestors teach.
By night hes the wild winds rider,
The Hornd One, the Lord of the Shades.
By day hes the King of the Woodland,
The dweller in green forest glades.
She is youthful and old as she pleases,
She sails the torn clouds in her barque,
The bright silver Lady of midnight,
The crone who weaves spells in the dark.
The master and mistress of magick,
They 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 Elphames fair land shall receive us,
In peace at the end of our days.
And Do What You Will be the challenge,
So be it in love that harms none,
For this is the only commandment.
By magick of old be it done!
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