t;
Fire-darting like the lightning-flash,
They showed how mighty heroes clash.

The archers' arrows flew so fast,
As through a hostile breast they passed,
That they were buried in the ground,
No stain of blood upon them found.

The swords that sheaths no longer clasped,
That hands of heroes firmly grasped,
Flashed out in glory through the fight,
As if they laughed in mad delight.

And many a warrior's eager lance
Shone radiant in the eerie dance,
A curling, lapping tongue of death
To lick away the soldier's breath.

Some, panting with a bloody thirst,
Fought toward the victim chosen first,
But had a reeking path to hew
Before they had him full in view.

Great elephants, their drivers gone
And pierced with arrows, struggled on,
But sank at every step in mud
Made liquid by the streams of blood.

The warriors falling in the fray,
Whose heads the sword had lopped away,
Were able still to fetch a blow
That slew the loud-exulting foe.

The footmen thrown to Paradise
By elephants of monstrous size,
Were seized upon by nymphs above,
Exchanging battle-scenes for love.

The lancer, charging at his foe,
Would pierce him through and bring him low,
And would not heed the hostile dart
That found a lodgment in his heart.

The war-horse, though unguided, stopped
The moment that his rider dropped,
And wept above the lifeless head,
Still faithful to his master dead.

Two lancers fell with mortal wound
And still they struggled on the ground;
With bristling hair, with brandished knife,
Each strove to end the other's life.

Two slew each other in the fight;
To Paradise they took their flight;
There with a nymph they fell in love,
And still they fought in heaven above.

Two souls there were that reached the sky;
From heights of heaven they could spy
Two writhing corpses on the plain,
And knew their headless forms again.

As the struggle comes to no decisive issue, Taraka seeks out the chief
gods, and charges upon them.

_Seventeenth canto. Taraka is slain_.--Taraka engages the principal
gods and defeats them with magic weapons. When they are relieved by
Kumara, the demon turns to the youthful god of war, and advises him to
retire from the battle.

Stripling, you are the only son
Of Shiva and of Parvati.
Go safe and live! Why should you run
On certain death? Why fight with me?
Withdraw! Let s