Rank: Prince · Legions: 60 · Element: Fire · Direction: South · Enn: Lirach tasa vefa wehlc Sitri
Sitri, written also Bitru or Sytry in the older books, is the twelfth spirit of the Ars Goetia — a great Prince who governs sixty legions of spirits. He comes first in a fierce and beautiful shape, with the face of a leopard and the wings of a griffin, and only at the command of the one who calls him does he put off that form and rise in the shape of a man, very beautiful to look upon. His domain is the fire of desire: he kindles passionate love and longing between people, inflaming the heart with ardour, and he uncovers what is hidden, laying bare the secret desires that the heart keeps veiled. In Sitri the seeker meets the Goetia's great Prince of eros — the kindler of passion, the awakener of allure, and the one who strips away pretense to reveal the true longing beneath. He is approached, in the reverent tradition, not as a means to compel another's heart but as a spirit of desire, confidence, and the honest embrace of one's own passionate nature.
He descends to the modern practitioner through the long chain of grimoires, his name written as Sitri, Bitru, or Sytry. He appears among the princes of the infernal hierarchy in Johann Weyer's Pseudomonarchia Daemonum of 1577, and was carried over as the twelfth spirit when that material was gathered into the Ars Goetia, the first book of the Lemegeton or Lesser Key of Solomon in the seventeenth century. Samuel Liddell MacGregor Mathers and Aleister Crowley fixed the modern English text in their edition of the Goetia in 1904, and Jacques Collin de Plancy kept his memory among the spirits of his Dictionnaire Infernal. Across all of these the account holds firm: the great Prince of the leopard's face and griffin's wings who becomes a beautiful man, the kindler of love and desire between men and women, the uncoverer of what is hidden, ruling over sixty legions of spirits. Wherever he appears, he is remembered as a spirit of passion, allure, and the fire of longing.
The grimoires are vivid about how Sitri first comes. He appears with the face of a leopard and the wings of a griffin — a fierce and striking composite in which the sensual, predatory beauty of the great cat is joined to the winged power of the griffin, that creature which unites the eagle's soaring height with the lion's earthly strength. The leopard is an old emblem of allure and appetite, of a beauty that is also a hunger, and the griffin's wings lift that appetite into something powerful and sovereign. This first, fierce form is the truth of Sitri's nature shown before it is tamed into a shape that can be looked upon and spoken with: the raw fire of desire, beautiful and dangerous, before it takes a gentler face. To meet him first as leopard and griffin is to be shown that desire is a wild and potent thing before it is a lovely one.
Only at the command of the one who calls him does Sitri put off the leopard and the griffin and rise in human shape — and that shape, the grimoires say, is very beautiful. So beautiful is it that the old texts and their modern readers alike sound a note of caution: the practitioner must take care not to be overcome by it, not to fall into infatuation with the spirit himself. This is a telling detail, for it makes Sitri's very appearance a lesson in his own domain. He is the spirit of a beauty that draws and enthralls, and to work with him is to stand in the presence of that drawing power and to keep one's own footing before it. The turning from beast to beauty is the heart of his coming: the wild fire of desire given a face so lovely that it becomes its own kind of test.
Sitri holds the rank of Prince — in the Goetic hierarchy a high office of sovereignty and command, held by spirits of great dignity and power — and he governs sixty legions of spirits, a considerable host. His princedom is a princedom of passion: he reigns over the fire of desire, the drawing of hearts, and the uncovering of hidden longing, and he commands his sixty legions with the sovereign authority of one who rules a powerful and elemental force of human life. To call upon this Prince is to summon a great and potent presence, a lord of allure and ardour whose might is bent toward the kindling and the revealing of desire.
The gift for which Sitri is best known is the kindling of love. The grimoires say plainly that he inflames men with the love of women and women with the love of men — that he lights the fire of passionate love and longing between people, stirring ardour where there was coolness and desire where there was none. He is the great awakener of eros in the Goetia, sought across the centuries for matters of passion, attraction, and romantic desire. In the reverent modern understanding this kindling is approached above all inwardly and toward oneself: the awakening of one's own passionate nature, the kindling of confidence and magnetism, the fanning of a mutual flame between willing hearts. For the fire Sitri governs is the fire of genuine desire, and genuine desire, rightly understood, is a thing to be awakened and honoured rather than forced upon the unwilling.
Bound up with his kindling of love is a gift of revelation. The grimoires say that Sitri causes people to show themselves naked, or reveals the hidden desires of the heart, if it be desired — that he strips away the veils and pretenses behind which longing is concealed and lays bare what is truly wanted. Read in its deeper sense, this is a power of honesty as much as of exposure: Sitri uncovers the desire that the heart hides even from itself, the secret attraction, the longing kept veiled behind reserve and denial. To many reflective practitioners this is his subtlest gift — not the literal disrobing of the old grimoire's plain words, but the uncovering of the true shape of one's own desire, the honest facing of what one wants beneath the coverings of shame and pretense. He is the spirit who removes the veil, and what he reveals is longing in its naked truth.
Within the left-hand path, where the demonised powers are met as teachers rather than enemies to be cast out, Sitri is honoured as a spirit of the sacred fire of eros — of desire reclaimed as a rightful and holy part of the self rather than a shameful thing to be suppressed. Much of the old world taught fear and shame of the body and its longings; the reverent modern practitioner, working with Sitri, seeks instead to meet desire honestly, to own it, and to let it be a source of confidence, vitality, and joy rather than of guilt. He is approached as a patron of passionate love, of sexual confidence and self-acceptance, of the magnetism that comes from being at home in one's own desire. In this he stands among the reclaimed spirits of the path: a power that a fearful age called shameful, honoured here as a rightful and living fire.
Yet precisely because his domain is so intimate and so powerful, Sitri is a spirit who must be approached with a clear conscience about the freedom of others. The kindling of love is not, in the reverent tradition, the compelling of another's heart against its will, and it is treated with the greatest care on exactly this point. True passion cannot be forced, and it ought never to be sought by overriding another's free choice; to attempt it is both a wrong against the other and a betrayal of the honest desire Sitri is meant to serve. The reflective practitioner therefore turns his fire chiefly toward the self — toward one's own confidence, magnetism, and honest longing — and toward the deepening of passion between those who freely choose it, never toward the ensnaring of the unwilling. His gift, rightly used, awakens what is real and willing; it does not manufacture what is not.
Within demonolatry and the modern left-hand path, Sitri is honoured as the great Prince of passionate love and desire — a spirit of the sacred fire of eros, approached with respect and with a clear ethical conscience. The reverent practitioner does not regard him as a slave to be coerced by threats, as the older exorcists' rites would have it, but as a powerful and beautiful being to be met with sincerity, and with a care for the freedom of all whom love touches. He is widely held to be potent and willing with those who come to him honestly, and especially close to those who seek to embrace their own desire, to grow in confidence and allure, or to deepen a passion freely shared. To work with Sitri in this spirit is to befriend the fire of one's own longing and to learn to carry it with honesty, confidence, and care.
The journey from the medieval and renaissance grimoires to the modern altar has changed how Sitri is approached without much changing who he is said to be. The old rites framed every Goetic spirit as a danger to be bound within a triangle and compelled by divine names, and treated his kindling of love as a raw instrument of the operator's will. The modern reverent practitioner, by contrast, comes to Sitri with the seal, the Enn, and an honest wish — most often turning his fire inward, toward confidence, self-acceptance, and the honest embrace of desire, or toward the deepening of a passion freely shared, and always with a care for consent and free will. His uncovering of hidden longing is sought as a mirror for the honest knowledge of one's own heart. The forms have softened, and an ethic of consent has come to the fore; the spirit described is the same great Prince of the leopard's face and the beautiful form who has kindled ardour for four centuries and more.
In contemporary demonolatry Sitri is approached through his seal and his Enn — the chanted phrase Lirach tasa vefa wehlc Sitri — by which practitioners open the way to him and hold his presence near. He is called upon for the awakening of one's own passionate nature, for confidence, magnetism, and allure, for the deepening of desire between willing hearts, for the honest uncovering of one's own hidden longing, and for the embrace of desire and sexuality without shame. Those who keep company with him describe a presence that is warm, magnetic, and beautiful — a sense of an alluring and powerful nearness, of a fire kindling in the blood, of a drawing beauty that must be met with one's own footing kept. He rewards honesty, self-respect, and a genuine embrace of desire, and he asks, above all, that his fire be used with care for the freedom of others.
What endures across every telling is the beautiful fire of him. Sitri is desire made a Prince: the leopard and the griffin who becomes a lovely man, the kindler of ardour between willing hearts, the uncoverer of hidden longing, the patron of a desire owned without shame. He is passionate where many spirits are cold, alluring where many are terrible, and close to the oldest and most human of fires — the longing to love and to be desired, and to be at home in one's own passionate nature. He asks for honesty, self-respect, and a clear conscience about the freedom of others, and to those who bring them he is, by the steady witness of the grimoires and of those who work with him still, a great and beautiful Prince: the fire that kindles what is willing, and the beauty that uncovers what is true.
The grimoires give Sitri two forms. He comes first with the face of a leopard and the wings of a griffin — a fierce and striking shape in which the sensual allure of the great cat is joined to the winged, sovereign power of the griffin, the truth of desire shown wild before it is tamed. Only at the command of the one who calls him does he put off that form and rise in the shape of a man, very beautiful to look upon — so beautiful, the old texts warn, that the practitioner must take care not to be overcome by it or fall into infatuation with the spirit himself. Those who work with him today describe a presence at once warm and magnetic and beautiful — an alluring, powerful nearness, a fire kindling in the blood, a drawing beauty before which one must keep one's own footing.
Enn: Lirach tasa vefa wehlc Sitri
Working with Sitri is the befriending of the fire of desire — a great and beautiful Prince who kindles passion, awakens allure, and uncovers the hidden longings of the heart. His gifts are potent and intimate, and for that reason they must be carried with an especially clear conscience: the fire of love is rightly turned toward one's own confidence and honest desire, and toward the deepening of passion freely shared, but never toward the compelling of another's heart against its will. He comes first as a fierce and beautiful beast, and gives his lovely human form only to the one who can meet that beauty and keep their own footing before it. What follows is a guide to that relationship: how to approach the Prince, how to work with his fire honestly and with care for the freedom of others, and how to embrace desire without shame and without wrong.
Come to Sitri as you would come to a powerful and beautiful lord of a most intimate fire — with respect, sincerity, and a clear conscience about what you seek. He is not a spirit to be summoned idly or for the ensnaring of another, for his domain touches the deepest and most personal fires of the heart, and he answers best to those who come with honesty about their own desire and a care for the freedom of all whom love touches. Approach him with respect for his power and his beauty, and keep your own footing before the allure of his presence, neither grovelling nor losing yourself. The relationship with him is built upon honesty and self-respect, and what is begun in sincerity and right conscience he tends to meet in kind.
Prepare a clean and quiet place where you will not be disturbed, and prepare yourself with honesty about what you truly desire. Many practitioners cleanse themselves and the space beforehand and set out his seal as the single focus of the working. Some bring to the working things in keeping with his warm and passionate nature — a red or rose candle, a fragrance, an emblem of love or beauty. Settle your breathing and your mind, and bring with you a clear and honest sense of what you seek: the awakening of your own confidence and allure, the honest facing of your own longing, or the deepening of a passion that is freely and mutually shared. Above all, come clear in conscience that you do not seek to override another's free will.
Open the way to Sitri by setting your attention upon his seal and reciting his Enn — Lirach tasa vefa wehlc Sitri — slowly and steadily, letting the chanted words carry your intent and call his presence near. Repeat the Enn until you feel the air of the working change: a gathering warmth, a magnetic and beautiful presence, a sense of a fire kindling. Meet his alluring presence without losing your footing in it; greet the beauty that comes without falling into infatuation with the spirit himself, for that steadiness is itself the first discipline of his work. Do not rush the opening; let his warm, potent presence gather before you ask anything of him.
The truest and safest of the works to undertake with Sitri is the kindling of your own fire — your confidence, your magnetism, your ease and joy in your own desire. To seek this, ask him not to bend another to you but to awaken in you the allure and confidence that are your own: to help you stand at home in your passionate nature, to carry yourself with the warmth and self-possession that draw others honestly. Where you would deepen a passion that is freely and mutually shared, ask him to fan that willing flame between you. This is his fire rightly used — turned toward what is real and willing, kindling what is already there rather than manufacturing what is not — and it is the work he answers most generously.
Sitri uncovers what is hidden, and among the most valuable of his gifts is the honest facing of one's own desire. To seek this, ask him to show you the true shape of your longing — the wants you keep veiled behind reserve, shame, or denial, the attraction or need you have not admitted even to yourself. Ask honestly and without flinching, and attend to what is uncovered: a longing recognised, a truth of the heart laid bare. Then meet what you find with honesty and self-respect, letting it be known and owned rather than buried. This uncovering is a mirror turned upon your own heart, and its fruit is the honest self-knowledge from which confidence and right action grow.
Because Sitri's fire touches the freedom of others, the right conduct of his work must be held clearly in mind at every step. Do not seek to compel any particular person to love or desire you against their will; true passion cannot be forced, and to attempt it is a wrong against the other and a corruption of the very fire you invoke. Turn his power toward yourself — your confidence, your allure, your honest longing — and toward the deepening of what is freely and mutually chosen, and let the outcome with any other person rest upon their own free heart. This is not a mere caution appended to the work but the heart of working rightly with Sitri: his fire honoured serves love that is real and willing, and dishonoured becomes a violation. Keep this clear, and his gift is a blessing; forget it, and it becomes a wrong.
Practitioners describe the signs of Sitri's presence and favour in warm and vivid terms fitting to a spirit of desire. There may be a gathering warmth, a sense of magnetic and beautiful presence, a fire kindling in the blood, a heightened awareness of one's own allure and longing. In the days that follow some report a new confidence and ease in themselves, a warmth in their bearing that others meet, a clarity about their own desire, or a deepening of warmth in a passion freely shared. Keep a written record of what comes during and after the working — the sensations, the recognitions, the turns of feeling and event in the following days — for his fire and his uncoverings unfold over time.
Work with Sitri honestly, with self-respect, and above all with a clear conscience about the freedom of others. Turn his fire toward your own confidence and honest desire and toward passion freely shared, and never toward compelling another's heart against its will. Keep your footing before the beauty of his presence, and do not fall into infatuation with the spirit himself, for that loss of self is the very snare the old texts warn against. Meet your own desire without shame but also without letting it govern you unwisely; carry the confidence he kindles with grace rather than arrogance. Come to him always in good faith, honest in what you seek and careful of whom your desire touches — for he is a great and beautiful Prince who answers honesty and right conscience with generosity, and the attempt to violate another's freedom with a fire that turns, in the end, against the one who so misuses it.