Maha-Bharata Epic of the Bharatas

Posted by admin_akashic on Oct 20th, 2022 in Civilization

[308] 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 rising 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 the weary with the dead and dying lay!

IX. Pandavs routed by Bhishma

Fell the thickening shades of darkness on the red and ghastly plain,
Torches by the white tents flickered, red fires showed the countless slain,

With a bosom sorrow-laden proud Duryodhan drew his breath,
Wept the issue of the battle and his warlike brothers’ death.

Spent with grief and silent sorrow slow the Kuru monarch went
Where arose in dewy starlight Bhishma’s proud and snowy tent,

And with tears and soft entreaty thus the sad Duryodhan spoke,
And his mournful bitter accents oft by heaving sighs were broke:

“Bhishma! on thy matchless prowess Kuru’s hopes and fates depend,
Gods nor men with warlike Bhishma can in field of war contend,

Brave in war are sons of Pandu, but they face not Bhishma’s might,
In their fierce and deathless hatred slay my brothers in the fight!

Mind thy pledge, O chief of Kurus, save Hastina’s royal race,
On the ancient king my father grant thy never-failing grace,

If within thy noble bosom, – pardon cruel words I say, –
Secret love for sons of Pandu holds a soft and partial sway,

[309] If thy inner heart’s affections unto Pandu’s sons incline,
Grant that Karna lead my forces ’gainst the foeman’s hostile line!”

Bhishma’s heart was full of sadness and his eyelids dropped a tear,
Soft and mournful were his accents and his vision true and clear:

“Vain, Duryodhan, is this contest, and thy mighty host is vain,
Why with blood of friendly nations drench this red and reeking plain?

They must win who, strong in virtue, fight for virtue’s stainless laws,
Doubly armed the stalwart warrior who is armed in righteous cause,

Think, Duryodhan, when Gandharvas took thee captive and a slave,
Did not Arjun rend thy fetters, Arjun righteous chief and brave,

When in Matsya’s fields of pasture captured we Virata’s kine,
Did not Arjun in his valour beat thy countless force and mine?

Krishna now hath come to Arjun, Krishna drives his battle-car,
Gods nor men can face these heroes in the field of righteous war,

Ruin frowns on thee, Duryodhan, and upon thy impious State,
In thy pride and in thy folly thou hast courted cruel fate,

Bhishma still will do his duty, and his end it is not far,
Then may other chieftains follow, – fatal is this Kuru war!”

Dawned a day of mighty slaughter and of dread and deathful war,
Ancient Bhishma in his anger drove once more his sounding car,

Morn to noon and noon to evening none could face the victor’s wrath,
Broke and shattered, faint and frightened, Pandavs fled before his path,

Still amidst the dead and dying moved his proud resistless car,
Till the gathering night and darkness closed the horrors of the war!

X. Fall of Bhishma

[310] Good Yudhishthir gazed with sorrow on the dark and ghastly plain,
Shed his tears on chiefs and warriors by the matchless Bhishma slain:

“Vain this unavailing battle, vain this woeful loss of life,
’Gainst the death-compelling Bhishma hopeless is this arduous strife!

As a lordly tusker tramples on a marsh of feeble reeds,
As a forest conflagration on the parchéd woodland feeds,

Bhishma tramples on my forces in his mighty battle-car,
God nor mortal chief can face him in the gory field of war!

Vain our toil and vain the valour of our kinsmen loved and lost,
Vainly fight my faithful brothers by a luckless fortune crost,

Nations pour their life-blood vainly, ceaseless wakes the sound of woe,
Krishna, stop this cruel carnage, unto woods once more we go!”

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