You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘germanic gods’ tag.
Menmanhia, goddess merciful and good,
goddess who knows of men and women, knows our minds,
our hearts, our dreams and our desires, I call to you.
Menmanhia, far-roaming one, many are the lands
in which your name was spoken, many were those
who carried their love and loyalty wherever
they set their feet. Goddess, you hold our love and faith,
you earn our trust and our devotion. Menmanhia
who answers prayers, you hear us when we cry out
in the night, you give us solace when we weep;
you take joy in our joys, you take pride in our deeds,
you bless us in all ways. Goddess, I honor you!
To Hurstaerga, great and generous goddess,
I offer words of praise. Yours are the people
of the kind-hearted isle, of a land well bounded
by waters clear and cold; yours are the orchards,
the heavy-laden trees, abundant with sweet fruit;
you are the granter of fortune and plenty,
your blessings rain down on the folk of your lands.
Once, Hurstaerga, you were well known, your name carved
into sturdy stone, shining white and fair; your fame
has dwindled, your might only grown, as your gifts
and your goodness proclaim. Hurstaerga who answers
prayers, I honor you in all your grace and glory.
I call to gracious Travalaeha, great lady
of the old city, the place of many peoples,
many names, the land so fair and bountiful,
so vital and so fine, that all who saw its beauty
desired it for themselves. Travalaeha, best
and most pleasing of goddesses, most charming
and most mighty one, yours is the power
of persuasion, yours are the words that compel
the heart, the wisdom that proves your words. Goddess,
friend of the the merchant and the guildswoman,
the craftsman and the soldier, you care for your own
with goodness and mercy; I praise and honor you.
Burorina, kind of heart and open of hand,
whose grace and goodness endure, I tell of your glory.
Giver of gifts, taker of vows and offerings,
you keep your promises, O true and trusty goddess,
you answer the prayers of those who call, you hear the cries
of the faithful. Long ago were you well honored,
cherished and revered, long ago your might was known,
your name carved into stone; today the stone
is weathered, your name long lost to time, yet still
the sea speaks in your voice, the city holds your spirit
and your strength, still your care and constancy abide.
Burorina, bountiful goddess, accept my praise.
Gracious Sibulca, fair maid who sits on the bank
of the Rhine, who watched as cities rose and fell,
as armies took and lost the land, as kings and chieftains
shook their shields and soldiers shed their blood; always
were you the shelter and the shield of those who called
your name in prayer, always you sustained the earth
and those who worked it, always you provided
sustenance and solace to those who turned to you
in times of desolation and despair. Sibulca,
yours are the lowlands, the fertile plain, yours the boon
of a gentle clime, a people diligent and wise.
Sibulca, I praise your name and honor your might.
I call to Hellivesa, once great of renown,
Hellivesa of the river fair, lovely one
whose gift it is to make the bitter into sweet,
to smooth the broken stone. Time is your ally,
O bright-eyed one, for what is gone again arises,
what is worn comes forth anew. We know you, goddess,
as we step into the scalding spring, as we stand
upon the shore, the wet sands sucking at our feet.
To Hellivesa of the winding waters,
companion of gracious Aueha, I offer
my praise, I offer my thanks for your blessing
of patience and peace of mind; I honor your might.
I call to Aueha of the clear waters,
a shiver under the sun, a ripple over stone;
yours is the land of the many villages,
each small center the soul of passing life and time,
each an heir to your blessing, a round of your song,
a detail of your design. Yours are the inland seas,
the shadowy woods and the beasts that roam within;
yours are the ancient names, the bones within the ground.
Aueha, you hold the old in hand–of memories
fond and fierce you know much, and you keep ever close
what has been–yet you see worth as well in the new.
O goddess steadfast and supple, I honor you.
Wise Garmangabis, subtle and profound, your art
it is to know what is, to know what will become;
of word and deed you see the source, of worth
and mettle you see the substance. Garmangabis,
weaver of our worlds, witness of our ways,
gently you twine those threads worn thin, laying weft to weft
with skill and care. Goddess of the wandering ones,
the dwellers on the riverbank, the wide-strewn seed,
granter of blessings abundant and needful,
your goodness and grace endure, well-rooted
in the soil, well-cherished in the souls of men.
Garmangabis, honored one, I offer you my praise.
Alateivia, great and holy, goddess who cares
for frail humanity, who is the shield
of the defenseless, the shelter of the homeless,
who wraps the fearful child in safety and solace,
I call to you for comfort, I beg your favor.
Wise Alateivia, guide of the physician,
friend of the suffering and the stray, it is ever
your way to bless the faithful and the needy.
You have seen much, O goddess, of hardship and war,
of the strength within men and women; yours it is
to hold up the spirit, to sustain the will,
to wash away despair. Goddess, I honor you.
I call to Ricagambeda, noble lady,
mighty one, granter of strength of every sort,
strength of body, strength of will, strength of spirit,
all are in your domain, O goddess great and wise.
Digger in the dirt, furrower of fields,
the seed we plant becomes our dream and our desire,
the salt we sweat only sweetens the gathered fruit,
for time and yearning bring all things into being.
Yours is the land of the many valleys,
the river-ways cutting through sod and stone,
yours the path we all must travel, the final fight.
O Ricagambeda, I offer you my praise.
Fieldstones 