burnt by falling upon Drona, whose car was the chamber of fire, having the bow for its flame and shafts and darts and maces for its fuel.  Similarly, the five Kekaya brothers, possessed of great courage, and adorned with beautiful angadas, are lying on the ground, slain by Drona and with their faces turned towards that hero.  Their coats of mail, of the splendour of heated gold, and their tall standards and cars and garlands, all made of the same metal, are shedding a bright light on the earth like so many blazing fires.  Behold, O Madhava, king Drupada overthrown in battle by Drona, like a mighty elephant in the forest slain by a huge lion.  The bright umbrella, white in hue of the king of the Pancalas, shines, O lotus-eyed one, like the moon in the autumnal firmament.  The daughters-in-law and the wives of the old king, afflicted with grief, having burnt his body on the funeral pyre, are proceeding, keeping the pyre to their right.  There those ladies, deprived of their senses, are removing the brave and great bowman Dhrishtaketu, that bull among the Cedis, slain by Drona.  This crusher of foes, O slayer of Madhu, this great bowman, having baffled many weapons of Drona, lieth there, deprived of life, like a tree uprooted by the wind.  Alas, that brave ruler of the Cedis, that mighty car-warrior Dhrishtaketu, after having slain thousands of foes, lies himself deprived of life!  There, O Hrishikesha, the wives of the ruler of the Cedis are sitting around his body still decked with fair locks and beautiful earrings, though torn by carnivorous birds.  Those foremost of ladies placing upon their laps the prostrate form of the heroic Dhrishtaketu born of the Dasharha race, are crying in sorrow.  Behold, O Hrishikesha, the son, possessed of fair locks and excellent earrings, of that Dhrishtaketu, hacked in battle by Drona with his shafts.  He never deserted his sire while the latter battled with his foes.  Mark, O slayer of Madhu, he does not, even in death, desert that heroic parent.  Even thus, my sons son, that slayer of hostile heroes, the mighty-armed Lakshmana, hath followed his sire Duryodhana!  Behold, O Keshava, the two brothers of Avanti, Vinda and Anuvinda, lying there on the field, like two blossoming shala trees in the spring overthrown by the tempest.  Clad in golden armour and adorned with Angadas of gold, they are still armed with swords and bows.  Possessed of eyes like those of a bull, and decked with bright garlands, both of them are stretched on the field.  The Pandavas, O Krishna, with thyself, are surely unslayable, since they and thou have escaped from Drona, from Bhishma, from Karna the son of Vikartana, from Kripa, from Duryodhana, from the son of Drona, from the mighty car-warrior Jayadratha, from Somadatta, from Vikarna, and from the brave Kritavarma.  Behold the reverses brought about by Time!  Those bulls among men that were capable of slaying the very celestials by force of their weapons have themselves been slain.  Without doubt, O Madhava, there is