The Sacrifice - Comus

At a tender age

By the High Priest chosen

As the fairest maiden, from her parents taken

In the hands of shamen

For the great initiation

For many months it never rained;

The fields were dry, the wells were drained

The barren land would yield no game;

The people looked to lay the blame

The elders hung theirs heads in shame

The harvest failed again and again

Living in her dreams filled with nature’s delight

Dancing in the streams in the dappled sunlight

The beacons glow across the hill

To summon folk to watch the ritual

Her heart begins to pound, she cannot make a sound

Feet frozen to the ground, with ashen face

Her purpose now is known, the horror hitting home

They lead her to the stone, her fate awaits

The sacrifice;

venerate the Master

The sacrifice;

blood awake the Master

The sacrifice…

Cold slab of slate the altar;

the blade that must not falter

The swaying candles dance, the chanting turns to trance

The ground begins to shake — the sleeping beast awake

Emerge ye spectral ghosts, take shape ye thunderous hosts

Oh Lord of death and birth, we invoke from the earth

She lives on in their dreams, in every ripe seed of grain

Still dancing in the streams, in every droplet of rain

Laid out for all to see — no struggle to be free

Her final memory — there’s no escape

Her garments are torn off, her yielding flesh is soft

The knife is held aloft to consummate

The sacrifice;

(venerate the Master!)

The sacrifice;

(blood awake the Master!)

The sacrifice…