I made an "Alternate Ending" for the Poem Kubla Khan by Coleridge to use in a campaign

I have an idea for a campaign which I am still planning out. The following poem will form an introduction to the campaign. It describes the history of the area in which the game will take place.

It removes part of the poem, replacing it with a darker depiction of its destruction.

I am also planning to make the rest of the original poem relevant. Perhaps they could be two different versions of the same poem told within my world.

Any thoughts?

Without further ado, the poem:

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In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A mighty fountain momently was forced: Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!

And so 'pon ramparts, turrets, spires, Soldiers 'twixt machicolations, Contemplated machinations, Of enemies hunting dark desires For consummation of death and fire. The trumpets sound, their call proclaiming, The enemy charges upon our gates! But what down there in measured strides, With unnatural speed on the walls was gaining Shadowed horsemen in their thousands chanting, Smashing, stomping, banging, wailing, Fiery arrows loosed upon the pleasure dome, Seeking to destroy the soldiers' home. And 'mid this bloody battle burning, An arrow sailing through the skies, Down towards the ground was turning, And found its rest in Kubla's eyes. So, without a next word spoken, The Khan's entire body broken, Under bustling feet of his men's rout, His last breath from his lungs spread out. And in this seething wrath was still born A child wailing, wanting, wreathing Round the dome its blood still seething, Into the caverns river-worn Colouring the world in mother's scorn.

But, lo! The earth did hear the mother's cry, The very mountains shaking with her anger, They could stand the fight no longer, And thus the very earth did heave, What once a firmament now a sieve, Swallowing men and horses with enormous sigh. And then the thick of blood and water, Upon the grass expelled its daughter: A sea of fire rose on high, Covering the lands in which the dome lie. This molten ocean turned to ash, To blackened dust 'pon fiery stone, No trace was borne of halls or throne, In which had sat the Khan unmatched, Until Death his quick had lashed. The price was paid, the journey bought, Fulfilled now, stilled now, dead was thought.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan, A stately pleasure dome decree, Where Alph, the sacred river, ran, Through caverns measureless to man, Down to a sunless sea.