Shame on Krishna! if he joins thee in this sad inglorious flight!

Be it mine alone, O Arjun! warrior's wonted work to know,
Krishna with his fiery discus smites the all-resistless foe!"

Then he flung the reins to Arjun, left the steeds and sounding car,
Leaped upon the field of battle, rushed into the dreadful war!

"Shame!" cried Arjun in his anger, "Krishna shall not wage the fight,
Nor shall Arjun like a recreant seek for safety in his flight!"

And he dashed behind the warrior, and on foot the chief pursued,
Caught him as the angry Krishna still his distant foeman viewed,

Stalwart Arjun lifted Krishna, as the storm lifts up a tree,
Placed him on his battle-chariot, and he bent to him his knee:

"Pardon, Krishna, this compulsion! pardon this transgression bold,
But while Arjun lives, O chieftain! weapon of thy wrath withhold!

By my warlike Abhimanyu, fair Subhadra's darling boy,
By my brothers, dearer, truer, than in hours of pride and joy,

By my troth I pledge thee, Krishna,--let thy angry discus sleep,--
Archer Arjun meets his foeman, and his plighted word will keep."

Forthwith rushed the fiery Arjun in his sounding battle-car,
And like waves before him parted serried ranks of hostile war,

Vainly hurled his lance Duryodhan 'gainst the valiant warrior's face,
Vainly Salya, king of Madra, threw with skill his pond'rous mace,

With disdain the godlike Arjun dashed the feeble darts aside,
Hold aloft his famed _gandiva_ as he stood with haughty pride,

Beat of drum and blare of _sankha_ and the thunder of his car,
And his weapon's fearful accents rose terrific near and far!

Came resistless Pandav forces, sweeping onward wave on wave,
Chedis, Matsyas, and Panchalas, chieftains true and warriors brave!

Onward too came forth the Kurus, by the matchless Bhishma led,
Shouts arose and cry of anguish midst the dying and the dead!

But the evening closed in darkness, and the night-fires fitful flared,
Fainting troops and bleeding chieftains to their various tents repaired!

IV

Duryodhan's Brothers slain

Dawned another day of battle; Kurus knew that day too well,
Widowed queens of fair Hastina wept before the evening fell!

For as whirlwind of destruction Bhima swept in mighty wrath,
Broke the serried line of tuskers vainly sent to cross his path,

Smote Duryodhan with his arrows, three terrific darts and five,
Smote proud Salya; from the battle scarce they bore the chiefs alive!

Then Duryodhan