others on the peerless Bhishma fell,
Gods in sky nor earthly warriors Bhishma's matchless might could quell!

Fell Yudhishthir's lofty standard, shook his chariot battle-tost,
Fell his proud and fiery coursers, and the dreadful day was lost!

Sahadeva and Nakula vainly strove with all their might,
Till their broken scattered forces rested in the shades of night!

VIII

Iravat slain: Duryodhan's Brothers slain

Morning saw the turn of battle; Bhishma's charioteer was slain,
And his coursers uncontrolled flew across the reddened plain,

Ill it fared with Kuru forces when their leader went astray,
And their foremost chiefs and warriors with the dead and dying lay.

But Gandhara's mounted princes rode across the battle-ground,--
For its steeds and matchless chargers is Gandhara's realm renowned,

And to smite the young Iravat fierce Gandhara's princes swore,--
Brave Iravat, son of Arjun, whom a Naga princess bore!

Mounted on their milk-white chargers proudly did the princes sweep,
Like the sea-birds skimming gaily o'er the bosom of the deep,

Five of stout Gandhara's princes in that fatal combat fell,
And a sixth in fear and faintness fled the woeful tale to tell!

Short, alas, Iravat's triumph, transient was the victor's joy,
Alumbusha dark and dreadful came against the gallant boy,

Fierce and fateful was the combat, mournful is the tale to tell,
Like a lotus rudely severed, gallant son of Arjun fell!

Arjun heard the tale of sorrow, and his heart was filled with grief,
Thus he spake a father's anguish, faint his accents, few and brief:

"Wherefore, Krishna, for a kingdom mingle in this fatal fray,
Kinsmen killed and comrades slaughtered,--dear, alas! the price we pay!

Woe unto Hastina's empire built upon our children's grave!
Dearer than the throne of monarchs was Iravat young and brave!

Young in years and rich in beauty, with thy mother's winsome eye!
Art thou slain, my gallant warrior, and thy father was not nigh?

But thy young blood calls for vengeance! noble Krishna, drive the car,
Let them feel the father's prowess, those who slew the son in war!"

And he dashed the glistening tear-drop, and his words were few and brief,
Broken ranks and slaughtered chieftains spoke an angry father's grief!

Bhima too revenged Iravat, and as onward still he flew,
Brothers of the proud Duryodhan in that fatal combat slew!

Still advanced the fatal carnage till the darksome close of day,
When the wounded and