eetness whom thy hapless mother bore?

Soft thine eye as budding lotus, sweet and gentle was thy face,
Are those soft eyes closed in slumber, faded in that peerless grace?

And thy limbs so young and tender, on the bare earth do they lie,
Where the hungry jackal prowleth and the vulture flutters nigh?

Gold and jewels graced thy bosom, gems bedecked thy lofty crest,
Doth the crimson mark of sabre decorate that manly breast?

Rend Subhadra's stony bosom with a mother's cureless grief,
Let her follow Abhimanyu and in death obtain relief!

Earth to me is void and cheerless, joyless in my hearth and home,
Dreary without Abhimanyu is this weary world to roam!

And oh! cheerless is that young heart, Abhimanyu's princess-wife,
What can sad Subhadra offer to her joyless sunless life?

Close our life in equal darkness, for our day on earth is done,
For our love and light and treasure, Abhimanyu, dead and gone!"

Long bewailed the anguished mother, fair Draupadi tore her hair,
Matsya's princess, early widowed, shed her young heart's blood in tear!

IV

Standards of the Kurus: Arjun's Revenge

Morning from the face of battle night's depending curtain drew,
Long and shrill his sounding _sankha_ then the wrathful Arjun blew,

Kurus knew the vow of Arjun, heard the _sankha's_ deathful blare,
As it rose above the red field, thrilled the startled morning air!

"Speed, my Krishna," out spake Arjun, as he held aloft his bow,
"For to-day my task is dreadful, cruel is my mighty vow!"

Fiery coursers urged by Krishna flew with lightning's rapid course,
Dashing through the hostile warriors and the serried Kuru force!

Brave Durmarsan faced the hero, but he strove and fought in vain,
Onward thundered Arjun's chariot o'er the dying and the slain!

Fierce Duhsasan with his tuskers rushed into the fine of war,
But the tuskers broke in panic, onward still went Arjun's car!

Drona then, the proud preceptor, Arjun's furious progress stayed,
Tear-drops filled the eye of Arjun as these gentle words he said:

"Pardon, father! if thy pupil shuns to-day thy offered war,
'Gainst his Abhimanyu's slayer Arjun speeds his battle-car!

Not against my great _acharya_ is my wrathful bow-string drawn,
Not against a loved father fights a loving duteous son!

Heavy on this bleeding bosom sits the darkening load of woe,
And an injured father's vengeance seeks the slaughtered hero's foe!

Pardon then if sorrowing Arjun seeks a far and distant