in everything, acquainted with all modes of warfare, capable of shooting his shafts to a great distance, and self-restrained, who was possessed of great skill in the use of weapons and armed with celestial weapons, that mighty warrior, of unfading glory, who was always careful, and who achieved the fiercest feats in battle?  It is plain, it seems to me, that destiny is superior to exertion, since even brave Drona hath been slain by the high-souled son of Prishata, that hero in whom were the four kinds of weapons, alas, thou sayest that that Drona, that preceptor in bowmanship, is slain.  Hearing of the slaughter of that hero who used to ride his bright car covered with tiger skins and adorned with pure gold.  I cannot drive away my grief.  Without doubt, O Sanjaya, no one dies of grief caused by another’s calamity, since, wretch that I am, I am yet alive although I have heard of Drona’s death.  Destiny I regard to be all powerful, exertion is fruitless.  Surely, my heart, hard as it is, is made of adamant, since it breaketh not into a hundred pieces, although I have heard of Drona’s death.  He who was waited up-on by Brahmanas and princes desirous of instruction in the Vedas and divination and bowmanship, alas, how could he be taken away by Death?  I cannot brook the overthrow of Drona which is even like the drying up of the ocean, or the removal of Meru from its site, or the fall of the Run from the firmament.  He was a restrainer of the wicked and a protector of the righteous.  That scorcher of foes who hath given up his life for the wretched Duryodhana, upon whose prowess rested that hope of victory which my wicked sons entertained, who was equal to Vrihaspati or Usanas himself in intelligence, alas, how was he slain?  His large steeds of red hue, covered with net of gold, fleet as the wind and incapable of being struck with any weapon in battle, endued with great strength, neighing cheerfully, well-trained and of the Sindhu breed, yoked unto his car and drawing the vehicle excellently, always preserving in the midst of battle, did they become weak and faint?  Coolly bearing in battle the roar of elephants, while those huge creatures trumpeted at the blare of conchs and the beat of drums, unmoved by the twang of bows and showers of arrows and other weapons, foreboding the defeat of foes by their very appearance, never drawing long breaths (in consequence of toil), above all fatigue and pain, how were those fleet steeds that drew the car of Bharadwaja’s son soon over-powered?  Even such were the steeds yoked unto his golden car.  Even such were the steeds yoked thereto by that foremost of human heroes.  Mounted on his own excellent car decked with pure gold, why, O son, could he not cross the sea of the Pandava army?  What feat were achieved in battle by Bharadwaja’s son, that warrior who always drew tears from other heroes, and upon whose knowledge (of weapons) all the bowmen of the world rely?  Firmly adhering to truth, and endued with great might, what, indeed, did Drona do