Hail to fair Frey, lord of verdant Alfheim;
son of noble Njord, most mighty of Vans;
suitor, then husband, of the peerless Gerd,
for whom your passion, headstrong and abiding,
drove from you all sense–your love for the maid
transcended reason, transcended duty,
as the call of life transcends the fear of death.
Holder of the seed, digger in the dirt,
god whose might draws each green shoot from the soil
and sparks desire in man and beast–Hail Frey!
Tag Archives: freyr
Hail to fair Frey, lord of verdant Alfheim;
Hail to fair Frey, god of the ever-green,
god of good fellowship, god of good cheer!
With blood-kin and heart-kin we join this night,
to hold a horn in hand, to drink deep,
to remember those beloved ones
from whom we are parted, to share the joy
of this holy season with those we hold dear.
With fondness and with frith we gather,
with feast and with folly we fill the long night.
Frey, to you we give thanks for our good fortune,
for the bounty we receive from the deep earth,
for the pleasure we take in good company,
for those who warm our beds, for those who know
our hearts, for the good strong drink that warms us
and the well-filled larder that keeps us strong
throughout the barren winter. Hail to Frey!
Hail Frey, lord of the fields we sow and reap,
lord of the beasts whose lives sustain our own,
lord of the light-elves, of the green meads
and wildwoods of Alfheim, yours as a tooth-gift.
We thank you for the gifts of the earth,
who cares for us as we care for her.
We thank you for the needs of the body,
the cravings that drive us ever toward life.
Hail to Frey, granter of good, fair-faced Van
whose hand we see in the growing world.
Hail to Frey, shining son of noble Njord,
brother of incomparable Freyja,
rider of gold-bristled Gullinbursti,
pilot of swift-skimming Skidbladnir,
master of Alfheim, wielder of the antler!
Brave Frey, devoted husband of fair Gerd,
in a distant land you saw the white-armed maid
and were stricken–any price would you pay,
any sacrifice would you freely make,
to gain the heart of the giant’s daughter.
Single-minded pursuer of true love,
we see you in the seasons’ changing,
in all the rhythms of our bodies;
we feel you in the trickle of desire
along the spine, deep in the belly.
Driven by need, we know your might,
we know the keen-edged claim of passion,
a claim fierce and full, as dear as breath:
the call of lust is the call of life.
Forceful one, irresistible one,
your persuasion is of the earth–
we feel it in our frailty, our flesh,
our bones, our rushing blood. We know it
as we know we live. Frey, sower of seeds,
granter of gifts simple and sublime,
of the world and of the spirit, we honor you.
Hail to Frey! Hail the bringer of joy,
of renewal, of completion! Hail Frey!
Hail to Frey, god of the green, god of growth
and new life! In summer we see you with ease,
your touch on fruit and field plain to all;
among winter’s bare trees and ice-covered fields
your presence is less overwhelming, less clear,
but no less needed, no less trusted,
no less sure. Frey, bringer of joy, of pleasure,
of having enough, of riches of all sorts,
we thank you for your many gifts,
for the food on our table, for the love
of friends and family, for comfort and lust
shared with lovers, for passion and drive,
for feeling and sensation, for pure, raw life.
Hail to Frey! Hail to the giver of plenty!
Hail to Frey, fair Vanic lord, holder of Alfheim,
son of seafaring Njord, brother of bright Freyja.
Frey, much-loved god, provider of peace and plenty,
open-hearted one, drawn by instinct, by passion’s fires,
who knows love’s true value, a prize worth any price.
Mighty in battle, rich in the gifts of the earth,
lender of strength to the farmer’s back, of profit
to his stead, of luck to his household. Ingvi-Frey,
giver of frith to mankind, of fruit to the land,
of the pleasure of bodies, of lust pure and clear,
of touch and taste and scent. Through your might we survive,
through your good will we grow and thrive. Hail Frey!
Hail to Frey, kind-hearted, well-honored Van!
We welcome you, we ask your blessing.
Protector and provider of field
and farm, granter of lust and new life
to men and beasts, the cold earth herself
responds to your touch, bears fruit and grain.
Mighty Frey, stronger still in summer,
peace and pleasure and all that lives
and grows are your gifts. Hail to Frey!
Hail to Frey, giver of field-wealth, bringer of life
to the greening land, of peace and frith to mankind.
Frey, we know you in winter, your joy shining through
the bleak grey skies, warming the ice-laden trees;
in the hesitant spring we see you plainly,
as we dig in the chill earth, watching bare branches
sprout pale leaves, thinking of the rich harvest to come–
your gift, O Frey, for which we thank you with full hearts.
Hail to Frey, bestower of rich blessings,
lord of merry Yule, garlanded in green.
Joy is in you, and joy in us through you.
Frey, your gifts are many, your gifts are great:
for full bellies we thank you, harvest-god,
for children we have carried and borne,
for gold at need, for peace without weakness,
for lust and its fulfillment, for laughter,
for frith, for life’s sweetest, purest moments–
for all these we thank you, kind Vanir lord.
With our happiness tonight, we thank you,
Frey; with our fellowship we honor you,
with our love for each other we know you.
In all good things we see you, gentle Frey;
for all good things we thank you. Hail Frey!