“Sanjaya said, ’Listen, O king, with undivided attention, to me as I recite what thy sons did after Devavrata had been killed in battle.  When Bhishma, O monarch, of prowess incapable of being baffled, was slain, thy warriors as also the Pandavas both reflected by themselves (on the situation).  Reflecting on the duties of the Kshatriya order, they were filled with wonder and joy; but acting according to those duties of their own order, they all bowed to that high-souled warrior.  Then those tigers among men contrived for Bhishma of immeasurable prowess a bed with a pillow made of straight shafts.  And having made arrangements for Bhishma’s protection, they addressed one another (in pleasant converse).  Then bidding Ganga’s son their farewell and walking round him, and looking at one another with eyes red in anger, those Kshatriyas, urged by fate, once more went out against one another for battle.  Then by the blare of trumpets and the beat of drums, the divisions of thy army as also those of the foe, marched out.  After the fall of Ganga’s son, O king, when the best part of the day had passed away, yielding to the influence of wrath, with hearts afflicted by fate, and disregarding the words, worthy of acceptance, of the high-souled Bhishma, those foremost ones of Bharata’s race went out with great speed, armed with weapons.  In consequence of thy folly and of thy son’s and of the slaughter of Santanu’s son, the Kauravas with all the kings seemed to be summoned by Death himself.  The Kurus, deprived of Devavrata, were filled with great anxiety, and resembled a herd of goats and sheep without a herdsman, in a forest abounding with beasts of prey.  Indeed, after the fall of that foremost one of Bharata’s race, the Kuru host looked like the firmament divested of stars, or like the sky without the atmosphere, or like the earth with blasted crops, or like an oration disfigured by bad grammar,[1] or like the Asura host of old after Vali had been smitten down, or like a beautiful damsel deprived of husband,[2] or like a river whose waters have been dried up, or like a roe deprived of her mate and encompassed in the woods by wolves; or like a spacious mountain cave with its lion killed by a Sarabha.[3] Indeed, O chief of the Bharatas, the Bharata host, on the fall of Ganga’s son, became like a frail boat on the bosom of the ocean, tossed by a tempest blowing from every side.  Exceedingly afflicted by the mighty and heroic Pandavas of sure aim, the Kaurava host, with its steeds, car-warriors and elephants much troubled, became exceedingly distressed, helpless, and panic-stricken.  And the frightened kings and the common soldiers, no longer relying upon one another, of that army, deprived of Devavrata, seemed to sink into the nethermost region of the world.  Then the Kauravas remembered Karna, who indeed, was equal to Devavrata himself.  All hearts turned to that foremost of all wielders of arms, that one resembling a guest resplendent (with learning and