Tale of Archais

74 THE TALE OF ARCHAIS Hear thou their murmured song Who cry for pardon ; pity, and prepare For pain’s delight thy votaries who kiss thy rod, O high Lord God ! O Lord our God ! O garden tyrant ! O imperious god ! Who as a father smitest with thy rod Thine erring children who aspire In vain the high mysteries Of thy most secret fire. Beat us and burn with nameless infamies ! We suffer, and are proud and glad, and kiss thy rod, O high Lord God. O Lord our God ! O despot of the fields ! O silent god ! Who hidest visions underneath thy rod, And hast all dreams and all desires and fears, All secrets and all loves and joys Of all the long vague years For lightsome maidens and desire-pale boys Within thy worship. We desire thy bitter rod, O high Lord God !