Here's the transcript of the ritual-
The Owl is in His leafy temple
Let all within the grove be reverent before Him.
Lift up your heads oh ye trees
And be lifted up ye everlasting spires
For behold here is bohemia’s shrine
And holy are the pillars of this house.
Weaving spiders come not here!
Hail, Bohemians!
With the ripple of waters
The song of birds
Such music as inspires the sinking soul
Do we invite you into Midsummer’s joy.
The sky above is blue and sown with stars
The forest floor is heaped with fragrant grit
The evening’s cool kiss is yours
The campfire’s glow
The birth of rosy fingered dawn.
For behold, here is Bohemia’s shrine
And holy are the pillars of his house
Shake off your sorrows with the city’s dust
And cast to the winds the cares of life.
But memories bring back the well-loved names of gallant friends
Who knew and loved this grove
Dear boom companions of a long ago
Aye, let them join us in this ritual!
And not a piece be empty in our midst.
All of these battles to hold
In this gray autumn of the world
Or in the springtime of your heart.
Attend our tale
Gather ye forest folks!
And cast your spells over these mortals
Touch their world-blind eyes with carry-on
Open their eyes to fancy
Follow the memories of yesterday
And seal the gates of sorrow.
It is a dream
And yet, not all a dream
Dull Care in all of his works
Harbored it
As vanished Babylon and goodly Tyre
So shall they also vanish
But the wilding rose blows on the broken battlements of Tyre
And moss rends the stones of Babylon
For beauty is eternal
And we bow to beauty everlasting
For lasting happiness we turn our eyes to one alone,
And she surrounds you now.
Great nature, refuge of the weary heart,
And only balm to breasts that have been bruised.
She hath cool hands for every fevered brow
And gentlest silence for the troubled soul.
Her councils are most wise
She healeth well
Having such ministries as calm and sleep
She is ever faithful
Other friends may fail
But seek ye her in any quiet place
Smiling, she will rise and give to you her kiss
So must ye come as children
Little children that believe do not ever doubt her beauty or her faith
Nor deem her tenderness can change or die
Bohemians and priests!
The desperate call of heavy hearts is answered.
By the power of your fellowship, Dull Care is slain
His body has been brought yonder to our funeral pyre
To the joyous singings of a funeral march;
Our funeral pyre awaits the corpse of Care
O thou, thus ferried across the shadowy tide
In all the ancient majesty of death
Dull Care, ardent enemy of beauty
Not for thee the forgiveness or the restful grave
Fire shall have its will of thee
And all the winds make merry with thy dust
Bring fire!
Fools!
Fools!
Fools!
When will ye learn
That me ye cannot slay?
Year after year ye burn me in this grove
Lifting your puny shouts of triumph to the stars.
When again you turn your faces to the marketplace
Do you not find me waiting as of old?
Fools!
Fools!
Fools to dream you conquer care.
Say Thou mocking spirit!
It is not all a dream
We know thou waiting for us
When this out sylvan holiday has ended
We shall meet thee and fight thee as of old
And some of us prevail against thee
And some thou shall destroy
But this too we know
Year after year within this happy grove
Our fellowship bans thee for a space
Thine malevolence which would pursue us here
Has lost its power under these friendly trees.
So shall we burn thee once again this night
And, with the flames that eat thine effigy
We shall read the sign
Midsummer sets us free!
Ye shall burn me once again!
Not with these flames!
Which hither ye have brought
From regions where I reign
Ye fools and priests
I spit upon your fire!
O Owl! Prince of all mortal wisdom
Owl of Bohemia, we beseech thee
Grant us thy council
No fire!
No fire!
No fire!
Let it be in the world
Where care is nourished
On the hates of men
And drive Him from this grove.
One flame alone must light this fire
One flame alone must light this fire
A pure eternal flame
At last, within the lamp of Fellowship
Upon the altar of Bohemia.
O Great Owl of Bohemia!
We thank thee for thy adjuration.
Begone detested care!
Begone!
Once more, we banish thee!
Begone Dull Care!
Fire should have its will of thee!
Begone Dull Care!
And all the winds make merry with thy dust
Hail, fellowship’s eternal flame!
Once again Midsummer sets us free!
My grandiose delusions are better than yours.
