The Ramayan by Valmiki

Like some proud tree before the blast Brave Bali to the ground was cast, Where prostrate in the dust he rolled Clad in the sheen of glistening gold, As when uptorn the standard lies Of the great God who rules the skies. When low upon the earth was laid The lord whom Vanar tribes obeyed, Dark as a moonless sky no more His land her joyous aspect wore. Though low in dust and mire was rolled The form of Bali lofty-souled, Still life and valour, might and grace Clung to their well-loved dwelling-place. That golden chain with rich gems set, The choicest gift of Sakra, yet Preserved his life nor let decay Steal strength and beauty's light away. Still from that chain divinely wrought His dusky form a glory caught, As a dark cloud, when day is done, Made splendid by the dying sun. As fell the hero, crushed in fight, There beamed afar a triple light From limbs, from chain, from shaft that drank His life-blood as the warrior sank. The never-failing shaft, impelled By the great bow which Rama held, Brought bliss supreme, and lit the way To Brahma's worlds which ne'er decay.

Rama and Lakshman nearer drew The mighty fallen foe to view, Mahendra's son, the brave and bold, The monarch with his chain of gold, With lustrous face and tawny eyes, Broad chest, and arms of wondrous size, Like Lord Mahendra fierce in fight, Or Vishnu's never-conquered might, Now fallen like Yayati sent From heaven, his store of merit spent, Like the bright flame that pales and dies, Like the great sun who fires the skies, Doomed in the general doom to fall When time shall end and ruin all.