Sweet were the words that fell from those dread lips,
Precious the lovely praise: “O thou true king,
Thou that dost bring to harvest the true seed
Of Pandu’s righteousness; thou that hast ruth
As he before, on all which lives! O son,
I tried thee in the Dwaita wood, what time
They smote thy brothers, bringing water; then
Thou prayed’st for Nakula’s life, tender and just,
Not Bhima’s nor Arjuna’s, true to both,
To Madri as to Kunti, to both queens.