The Colas c11.40

c11.40

Thou scion of the Cōḷa Lord who saved
The dove from woe,—Chief of the wrathful hosts,
Armed with the gleaming darts that work havoc,
As when a fiery dragon, angry, fierce,—
Bearing five heads, with gleaming poisonous tooth,
Has enter'd the vast mountain-cavern, where
The golden creepers twine;—and from the sky
Fire issues forth and loudest thunderbolt;—
Thou saw'st the lordly city old, whose king
Was circled round by girded elephants.
There in dark deep moat alligators congregate.
In the wide waters of the guarded lake
Are crocodiles that fierce in fight
Dart forth to catch the shadows cast
By gleam of watchman's torch at midnight hour.
Its walls like burnish'd copper shone.
This seemed not fair to thine eyes; for thou didst
Work destruction mightily, glorious king!