Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
Maha-Balypooram the Sunken City
By Robert Southey (17741843)
T
Of the ancient kings, which Baly in his power
Made in primeval times; and built above them
A city, like the cities of the gods,
Being like a god himself. For many an age
Hath Ocean warred against his palaces,
Till, overwhelmed, they lie beneath the waves,
Not overthrown, so well the awful chief
Had laid their deep foundations. Rightly said
The accursed, that no way for man was there,
But not like man am I!
Such was the talk they held upon their way
Of him to whose old city they were bound;
And now, upon their journey, many a day
Had risen and closed, and many a week gone round,
And many a realm and region had they passed,
When now the ancient towers appeared at last.
Shone o’er the dark green deep that rolled between.
For domes and pinnacles and spires were seen
Peering above the sea, a mournful sight!
Well might the sad beholder ween from thence
What works of wonder the devouring wave
Had swallowed there, when monuments so brave
Bore record of their old magnificence.
And on the sandy shore, beside the verge
Of Ocean, here and there, a rock-hewn fane
Resisted in its strength the surf and surge
That on their deep foundations beat in vain.
In solitude the ancient temples stood,
Once resonant with instrument and song,
And solemn dance of festive multitude;
Now as the weary ages pass along,
Hearing no voice save of the ocean flood,
Which roars forever on the restless shores;
Or visiting their solitary caves,
The lonely sound of winds, that moan around
Accordant to the melancholy waves.