The Ramayan by Valmiki

When Dushan saw his giant band Slaughtered by Rama's conquering hand, He called five thousand fiends, and gave His orders. Bravest of the brave, Invincible, of furious might, Ne'er had they turned their backs in flight. They, as their leader bade them seize Spears, swords, and clubs, and rocks, and trees, Poured on the dauntless prince again A ceaseless shower of deadly rain. The virtuous Rama, undismayed, Their missiles with his arrows stayed, And weakened, ere it fell, the shock Of that dire hail of tree and rock, And like a bull with eyelids closed, The pelting of the storm opposed.

Then blazed his ire: he longed to smite To earth the rovers of the night. The wrath that o'er his spirit came Clothed him with splendour as of flame, While showers of mortal darts he poured Fierce on the giants and their lord. Dushan, the foeman's dusky dread, By frenzied rage inspirited, On Raghu's son his missiles cast Like Indra's bolts which rend and blast. But Rama with a trenchant dart Cleft Dushan's ponderous bow apart. And then the gold-decked steeds who drew The chariot, with four shafts he slew. One crescent dart he aimed which shred Clean from his neck the driver's head; Three more with deadly skill addressed Stood quivering in the giant's breast. Hurled from his car, steeds, driver slain, The bow he trusted cleft in twain, He seized his mace, strong, heavy, dread, High as a mountain's towering head. With plates of gold adorned and bound, Embattled Gods it crushed and ground. Its iron spikes yet bore the stains Of mangled foemen's blood and brains. Its heavy mass of jagged steel Was like a thunderbolt to feel. It shattered, as on foes it fell, The city where the senses dwell. Fierce Dushan seized that ponderous mace Like monstrous form of serpent race, And all his savage soul aglow With fury, rushed upon the foe. But Raghu's son took steady aim, And as the rushing giant came, Shore with two shafts the arms whereon The demon's glittering bracelets shone. His arm at each huge shoulder lopped, The mighty body reeled and dropped, And the great mace to earth was thrown Like Indra's staff when storms have blown. As some vast elephant who lies Shorn of his tusks, and bleeding dies, So, when his arms were rent away, Low on the ground the giant lay. The spirits saw the monster die, And loudly rang their joyful cry, "Honour to Rama! nobly done! Well hast thou fought, Kakutstha's son!" But the great three, the host who led, Enraged to see their chieftain dead, As though Death's toils were round them cast, Rushed upon Rama fierce and fast, Mahakapala seized, to strike His foeman down, a ponderous pike: Sthulaksha charged with spear to fling, Pramathi with his axe to swing. When Rama saw, with keen darts he Received the onset of the three, As calm as though he hailed a guest In each, who came for shade and rest. Mahakapala's monstrous head Fell with the trenchant dart he sped. His good right hand in battle skilled Sthulaksha's eyes with arrows filled, And trusting still his ready bow He laid the fierce Pramathi low, Who sank as some tall tree falls down With bough and branch and leafy crown. Then with five thousand shafts he slew The rest of Dushan's giant crew: Five thousand demons, torn and rent, To Yama's gloomy realm he sent.