ubhadra, these thy sires that resemble the very celestials, and my own
wretched self distracted with woe?" Behold, O Krishna, gathering with her
hands the blood-dyed locks of her lord and placing his head on her lap,
the beautiful damsel is speaking to him as if he were alive, "How couldst
those great car-warriors slay thee in the midst of battle,--thee that art
the sister's son of Vasudeva and the son of the wielder of Gandiva? Alas,
fie on those warriors of wicked deeds, Kripa and Karna and Jayadratha and
Drona and Drona's son, by whom thou wert deprived of life. What was the
state of mind of those great car-warriors at that time when they
surrounded thee, a warrior of tender years, and slew thee to my grief?
How couldst thou, O hero, who had so many protectors, be slain so
helplessly in the very sight of the Pandavas and the Pancalas? Beholding
thee, O hero, slain in battle by many persons united together, how is
that tiger among men, that son of Pandu, thy sire, able to bear the
burden of life? Neither the acquisition of a vast kingdom nor the defeat
of their foes conduces to the joy of the Parthas bereft of thee, O
lotus-eyed one! By the practice of virtue and self-restraint, I shall
very soon repair to those regions of bliss which thou hast acquired by
the use of weapons. Protect me, O hero, when I repair to those regions.
When one's hour does not come, one cannot die, since, wretched that I am,
I still draw breath after seeing thee slain in battle. Having repaired to
the region of the pitris, whom else, like me, dost thou address now, O
tiger among men, in sweet words mingled with smiles? Without doubt, thou
wilt agitate the hearts of the Apsaras in heaven, with thy great beauty
and thy soft words mingled with smiles! Having obtained the regions
reserved for persons of righteous deeds, thou art now united, O son of
Subhadra, with the Apsaras! While sporting with them, recollect at times
my good acts towards thee. Thy union with me in this world had, it seems,
been ordained for only six months, for in the seventh, O hero, thou hast
been bereft of life!" O Krishna, the ladies of the royal house of Matsya
are dragging away the afflicted Uttara, baffled of all her purposes,
while lamenting in this strain. Those ladies, dragging away the afflicted
Uttara, themselves still more afflicted than that girl, are weeping and
uttering loud wails at sight of the slain Virata. Mangled with the
weapons and shafts of Drona, prostrat