Maha-Bharata Epic of the Bharatas

Posted by admin_akashic on Oct 20th, 2022 in Space

Came again the fiery Karna, vengeance flamed within his heart,
Like the midnight’s lurid lightning sped his fell and fatal dart,

Woeful was the hour of darkness, luckless was the starry sway,
Bhima’s son in youth and valour lifeless on the red field lay!

Then was closed the midnight battle, silent shone the starry light,
Bhima knew nor rest nor slumber through the long and woeful night!

V. Fall of Drona

[329] Ere the crimson morning glittered proud Duryodhan sad at heart,
To the leader of the Kurus did his sorrows thus impart:

“Sadly speeds the contest, Drona, on the battle’s gory plain,
Kuru chiefs are thinned and fallen and my brothers mostly slain,

Can it be, O best of Brahmans, peerless in the art of war,
Can it be that we shall falter while thou speed’st the battle-car?

Pandu’s sons are but thy pupils, Arjun meets thee not in fight,
None can face the great acharya in his wrath and warlike might,

Wherefore then in every battle are the Kuru chieftains slain,
Wherefore lie my warlike brothers lifeless on the ghastly plain?

Is it that the fates of battle ’gainst the Kuru house combine,
Is it that thy heart’s affection unto Pandu’s sons incline,

If thy secret love and mercy still the sons of Pandu claim,
Yield thy place to gallant Karna, Anga’s prince of warlike fame!”

Answered Drona brief and wrathful: “Fair Gandhari’s royal son,
Reapest thou the gory harvest of thy sinful actions done,

Cast no blame in youth’s presumption on a warrior’s fleecy hair,
Faithful unto death is Drona to his promise plighted fair!

Ask thyself, O prince Duryodhan, bound by battle’s sacred laws,
Wherefore fightest not with Arjun for thy house and for thy cause,

Ask the dark and deep Sakuni, where is now his low device,
Wherefore wields he not his weapon as he wields the loaded dice,

Ask the chief who proudly boasted, archer Arjun he would slay,
Helméd Arjun sways the battle, whither now doth Karna stay?

[330] Know the truth; the gallant Arjun hath no peer on earth below,
And no warrior breathes, Duryodhan, who can face thy helméd foe,

Drona knows his sacred duty, and ’tis willed by Heaven on high,
Arjun or preceptor Drona shall in this day’s battle die!”

Now the Sun in crimson splendour rolled his car of glistening gold,
Sent his shafts of purple radiance on the plain and mountain bold,

And from elephant and charger, from each bravely bannered car,
Lighted mailéd kings and chieftains and the leaders of the war,

Faced the sun with hands conjoinéd and the sacred mantra told, –
Hymns by ancient rishis chanted, sanctified by bards of old!

Worship done, each silent warrior mounted on his car or steed,
Onward to the deathful contest did his gallant forces lead,

Ill it fared with Pandav forces, doughty Drona took the field,
Peer was none midst living warriors of the Brahman trained and skilled,

Arjun, faithful to his promise, his preceptor would not fight,
King nor chief nor other archer dared to face his peerless might.

But old feud like potent poison fires the warrior’s heart with strife,
Sire to son still unforgotten leaps the hate from death to life,

Wrathful princes of Panchala by their deathless hatred stung,
Saw their ancient foe in Drona and on him for vengeance sprung!

Darkly thought the ancient warrior of the old relentless feud,
Fiercely like a jungle-tiger fell upon the hostile brood,

Royal Drupad’s valiant grandsons in their youth untimely slain,
Victims of a deathless discord, pressed the gory battle-plain!

Drupad pale with grief and anger marked his gallant grandsons dead,
And his army crushed and routed and his bravest chieftains fled,

Filled with unforgotten hatred and with father’s grief and pride,
Rushed the king, and bold Virata charged by doughty Drupad’s side!

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