Pandu.  An expert in guile, he had vanquished Yudhishthira in the assembly by his powers of deception and won from him his vast kingdom.  The son of Pandu, however, hath now won Shakunis life-breaths.  Behold, O Krishna, a large number of birds is now sitting around Shakuni.  An expert in dice, alas, he had acquired that skill for the destruction of my sons.  This fire of hostility with the Pandavas had been ignited by Shakuni for the destruction of my children as also of himself and his followers and kinsmen.  Like those acquired by my sons, O puissant one, by the use of weapons, this one too, however wicked-souled, has acquired many regions of bliss by the use of weapons.  My fear, O slayer of Madhu, is that that crooked person may not succeed in fomenting dissensions even (there, the region attained by them) between my children, all of whom are confiding and possessed of candour!”

25

“Gandhari said, Behold that irresistible ruler of the Kambojas, that bull-necked hero, lying amid the dust, O Madhava, though deserving of being stretched at his ease on Kamboja blankets.  Stricken with great grief, his wife is weeping bitterly at sight of his blood-stained arms, which, however, formerly used to be smeared with sandal-paste.  Indeed, the beauteous one exclaims, “Even now adorned with beautiful palms and graceful fingers, these two arms of thine resemble a couple of spiked maces, getting within whose clasp, joy never left me for a moment!  What will be my end, O ruler of men, when I am deprived of thee?” Endued with a melodious voice, the Kamboja queen is weeping helplessly and quivering with emotion.  Behold that bevy of fair ladies there.  Although tired with exertion and worn out with heat, yet beauty leaves not their forms, like the sightliness of the wreaths worn by the celestials although exposed to the Sun.  Behold, O slayer of Madhu, the heroic ruler of the Kalingas lying there on the ground with his mighty arms adorned with a couple of angadas.  Behold, O Janardana, those Magadha ladies crying and standing around Jayatsena, the ruler of the Magadhas.  The charming and melodious wails of those long-eyed and sweet-voiced girls, O Krishna, are stupefying my heart exceedingly.  With all their ornaments displaced, crying, and afflicted with grief, alas, those ladies of Magadha, worthy of resting on costly beds, are now lying down on the bare ground!  There, again, those other ladies, surrounding their lord, the ruler of the Kosalas, prince Brihadbala, are indulging in loud wails.  Engaged in plucking from his body the shafts with which it was pierced by Abhimanyu with the full might of his arms, those ladies are repeatedly losing their senses.  The faces of those beautiful ladies, O Madhava, through toil and the rays of the Sun, are looking like faded lotuses.  There, the brave sons of Dhrishtadyumna, of tender years and all adorned with garlands of gold and beautiful angadas, are lying, slain by Drona.  Like insects on a blazing fire, they have all been