Come to me Lord of the Hunt, Sacred Herdsman, and Divine Smith. Put by your horn, lay aside your crook, stow your hammer, and quit your forge for now. Wipe your brow, and come find your leisure in the midst of my good company. Have a seat, put up your feet, and pour yourself a cold draught. By the virtue of your work have you earned a rest, for well have your cared for the wild beasts and domesticated flocks. And many a time has your forge burned long into the night with you hard at work creating lightning bolts of such exquisite beauty and terrible power as I have ever beheld. Join me Great Lord, and indulge yourself to the fullest. May you know no want in my presence, for thanks to you and the Goddess, I know no want. I raise my glasse high and toast your greatness. All hail the God of the Wild Magicks. Author Unknown