h his arm of valour all his foemen on the earth?

Didst thou hide the birth and lineage of that chief of deathful ire,
As a man in folds of garments seeks to hide the flaming fire?

Arjun, wielder of _gandiva_, was for us no truer stay
Than was Karna for the Kurus in the battle's dread array!

Monarchs matched not Karna's glory nor his deeds of valour done,
Midst the mighty car-borne warriors mightiest warrior Karna shone!

Was he then our eldest brother we have in the battle slain,
And our nearest dearest elder fell upon the gory plain?

Not the death of Abhimanyu from the fair Subhadra torn,
Not the slaughter of the princes by the proud Draupadi borne,

Not the fall of Kuru warriors, nor Panchala's mighty host,
Like thy death afflicts my bosom, noble Karna! loved and lost!

Monarch's empire, victor's glory, all the treasures earth can yield,
Righteous bliss and heavenly gladness, harvest of the _swarga's_ field,

All that wish can shape and utter, all that nourish hope and pride,
All were ours, O noble Karna! with thee by thy brother's side,

And this carnage of the Kurus these sad eyes had never seen,
Peace had graced our blessed empire, happy would the earth have been!"

Long bewailed the sad Yudhishthir for his elder loved and dead,
And oblation of the water to the noble Karna made,

And the royal dames of Kuru viewed the sight with freshening pain,
Wept to see the good Yudhishthir offering to his brother slain,

And the widowed queen of Karna with the women of his house
Gave oblations to her hero, wept her loved and slaughtered spouse!

Done the rites to the departed, done oblations to the dead,
Slowly then the sad survivors on the river's margin spread,

Far along the shore and sandbank of the sacred sealike stream
Maid and matron laved their bodies 'neath the morning's holy beam,

And ablutions done, the Kurus slow and sad and cheerless part,
Wend their way to far Hastina with a void and vacant heart.

BOOK XII

ASWA-MEDHA

(Sacrifice of the Horse)

The real Epic ends with the war and the funerals of the deceased
warriors. Much of what follows in the original Sanscrit poem is
either episodical or comparatively recent interpolation. The great
and venerable warrior Bhishma, still lying on his death bed,
discourses for the instruction of the newly crowned Yudhishthir on
various subjects like the Duties of Kings, the Duties of the Four
Castes, and the Four Stages of Life. He repeats the