The Colas c11.50

c11.50

If in his mind against thee he were wroth,
Or if in outward act he showed his rage,
Or if he touched thee with afflictive hand,
Thou couldst not have escaped, O Death!
Thou took'st great Vaḷavan, entreating him,
Like minstrels, bowing low, with suppliant hand,
Praising, thou didst bear off his life,
Leader of hosts that crowd the glorious field,
Crowned with gold wreath, Lord of the mighty car!