A Norwegian or Swedish peasant when he wishes to become a werewolf, kneels by the side of a lycanthropous stream at midnight, having chosen a night when the moon is in the full, incants these words:
“Tis night! Tis night! and the moon shines white over pine and snow capped hill. The shadows stray through burn and brae and dance in the sparkling rill.”
Tis night! Tis night! and the devils light casts glimmering beams around. The maras dance, the nisses prance on the flower enameled ground.”
Tis night! Tis night! and the the werewolf’s might makes man and nature shiver.
Yet its fierce grey head and stealthy tread are nought to thee, oh river!
River, River, River
Oh water strong, that swirls along I prithee a werewolf make me.
Of all things dear, my soul, I swear, In death shall not forsake thee.”
The supplicant then strikes the banks of the river three times with his forehead; then dips his head into the river thrice, at each dip gulping down a mouthful of the water.
Concludes ceremony, he has become a werewolf, and twenty-four hours later will undergo the first metamorphosis.