DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Diablerie, v. 1, issue 1, January 1944

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Diablerie, v. 1, issue 1, January 1944

Page 14

TO A Pagan GOD JUST DEAD- FYWERT KINGE
When one hears a Pagan God has died,
Unless one fears one's own God's been defied,
Such passing news bears no great weight
No matter who the might potentate.
Strange lands that will to stranger Gods adhere
Cause us small worry; mayhap a little fear.
Mournful men that follow the Pagan's bier
Belong across the mountains, far from here.
Those who make their life beyond this pall, 
When at last comes their time to fall...
They fall alone, unminded by the rest
Though of them they may have been the best.
Yet those who follow the common way
Think but little and have less to say;
And when they hear a Pagan God is passed
They mock: "We hope he is not the last."
Around the mountains peaks where wild winds blow 
Far from the spots to which the rabble go
The wayward and the trenchant come to meet
All the lore and doubt cast from a heedless world
Is gathered to this haven and unfurled.
Feel, then, welcome here, O fallen God.
Let your defiance once more be unshod!
Those who turned their backs upon your face
Fear to venture near that part of space.
Valhalla, Olympus, Elysian Fields
Still wave their ancient spears and shields 
And to this ignored and long-forgotten place
Forever shunned by the Christian of the race
That Pagan God will find a ready throne,
Nor will he be obliged to reign alone. Those denizens from other space and time, Of aged dust and ancient slime, 
The brave, the kings, the men of old
From times forgot and others yet untold
Were Pagan...they would not be tamed.
And though by this world unnamed,
They are there and with them stands
The Pagan who is gone to other lands.
If this be true, when you hear a God has died,
Unless your own God's been decried,
Is such passing news of so little weight
Even if he were no worldly potentate.

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TO A Pagan GOD JUST DEAD- FYWERT KINGE When one hears a Pagan God has died, Unless one fears one's own God's been defied, Such passing news bears no great weight No matter who the might potentate. Strange lands that will to stranger Gods adhere Cause us small worry; mayhap a little fear. Mournful men that follow the Pagan's bier Belong across the mountains, far from here. Those who make their life beyond this pall, When at last comes their time to fall... They fall alone, unminded by the rest Though of them they may have been the best. Yet those who follow the common way Think but little and have less to say; And when they hear a Pagan God is passed They mock: "We hope he is not the last." Around the mountains peaks where wild winds blow Far from the spots to which the rabble go The wayward and the trenchant come to meet All the lore and doubt cast from a heedless world Is gathered to this haven and unfurled. Feel, then, welcome here, O fallen God. Let your defiance once more be unshod! Those who turned their backs upon your face Fear to venture near that part of space. Valhalla, Olympus, Elysian Fields Still wave their ancient spears and shields And to this ignored and long-forgotten place Forever shunned by the Christian of the race That Pagan God will find a ready throne, Nor will he be obliged to reign alone. Those denizens from other space and time, Of aged dust and ancient slime, The brave, the kings, the men of old From times forgot and others yet untold Were Pagan...they would not be tamed. And though by this world unnamed, They are there and with them stands The Pagan who is gone to other lands. If this be true, when you hear a God has died, Unless your own God's been decried, Is such passing news of so little weight Even if he were no worldly potentate.