“Gandhari said, There, O Madhava, my son Vikarna, applauded by the wise, lieth on the bare ground, slain by Bhima and mangled horribly!  Deprived of life, O slayer of Madhu, Vikarna lieth in the midst of (slain) elephants like the moon in the autumnal sky surrounded by blue clouds.  His broad palm, cased in leathern fence, and scarred by constant wielding of the bow, is pierced with difficulty by vultures desirous of feeding upon it.  His helpless young wife, O Madhava, is continually endeavouring, without success, to drive away those vultures desirous of feeding on carrion.  The youthful and brave and handsome Vikarna, O bull among men, brought up in luxury and deserving of every kind of weal, now sleepeth amid the dust, O Madhava!  Though all his vital parts have been pierced with clothyard shafts and bearded arrows and nalikas, yet that beauty of person which was his hath not forsaken this best of the Bharatas.  There, my son Durmukha, that slayer of large band of foes, sleepeth, with face towards the enemy, slain by the heroic Bhimasena in observance of his vow.  His face, O Krishna, half-eaten away by beasts of prey, looketh more handsome, O child, even like the moon on the seventh day of the lighted fortnight.  Behold, O Krishna, the face of that heroic son of mine, which is even such.  How could that son of mine be slain by foes and thus made to eat the dust?  O amiable one, how could that Durmukha, before whom no foe could stand, be slain by foes, O subjugator of celestial regions!  Behold, O slayer of Madhu, that other son of Dhritarashtra, Citrasena, slain and lying on the ground, that hero who was the model of all bowmen?  Those young ladies, afflicted with grief and uttering piteous cries, are now sitting, with beasts of prey, around his fair form adorned with wreaths and garlands.  These loud wails of woe, uttered by women, and these cries and roars of beasts of prey, seem exceedingly wonderful to me, O Krishna!  Youthful and handsome, and always waited upon and served by the most beautiful ladies, my son Vivinsati, O Madhava, sleepeth there, stained with dust.  His armour hath been pierced with arrows.  Slain in the midst of the carnage, alas, the heroic Vivimshati is now surrounded and waited upon by vultures!  Having in battle penetrated the ranks of the Pandava army, that hero now lieth on the bed of a hero,—­on the bed, that is, of an exalted Kshatriya!  Behold, O Krishna, his very beautiful face, with a smile playing on it, adorned with excellent nose and fair eyebrows, and resembling the resplendent Moon himself!  Formerly a large number of the most beautiful ladies used to wait upon him, like thousands of celestial girls upon a sporting gandharva.  Who again could endure my son Duhsaha, that slayer of heroic foes, that hero, that ornament of assemblies, that irresistible warrior, that resister of foes?  The body of Duhsaha, covered with arrows, looks resplendent like a mountain overgrown with flowering karnikaras.  With his garland of gold and his bright armour, Duhsaha, though deprived of life, looks resplendent yet, like a white mountain of fire!”