"Then, as they hastened o'er the deadly waste,
Aiming for Meru, having thoughts at soul
Infinite, eager,—lo! Draupadí reeled,
With faltering heart and feet; and Bhíma turned
Gazing upon her; and that hero spake
To Yudhishthira: 'Master, Brother, King
Why doth she fail? For never all her life
Wrought our sweet lady one thing wrong, I think.
Thou knowest, make us know, why hath she failed?'
"Then Yudhishthira answered: 'Yea, one thing.
She loved our brother better than all else,—
Better than heaven: that was her tender sin,
Fault of a faultless soul; she pays for that'
'So spake the monarch, turning not his eyes,
Though Draupadí lay dead—striding straight on
For Meru, heart-full of the things of heaven,
Perfect and firm. But yet a little space,
And Sahadev fell down, which Bhíma seeing,
Cried once again: 'O King, great Madri's son
Stumbles and sinks. Why hath he sunk?—so true,
So brave and steadfast, and so free from pride!'
"'He was not free,' with countenance still fixed,
Quoth Yudhishthira; 'he was true and fast
And wise, yet wisdom made him proud; he hid
One little hurt of soul, but now it kills.'
"So saying, he strode on—Kunti's strong son—
And Bhíma, and Arjuna followed him,
And Nakula, and the hound; leaving behind
Sahadev in the sands. But Nakula,
Weakened and grieved to see Sahadev fall—
His loved twin-brother—lagged and stayed; and next
Prone on his face he fell, that noble face
Which had no match for beauty in the land,—
Glorious and godlike Nakula! Then sighed
Bhíma anew: 'Brother and Lord! the man
Who never erred from virtue, never broke
Our fellowship, and never in the world
Was matched for goodly perfectness of form
Or gracious feature,—Nakula has fallen!'
"But Yudhishthira, holding fixed his eyes,—
That changeless, faithful, all-wise king,—replied:
'Yea, but he erred. The godlike form he wore
Beguiled him to believe none like to him,
And he alone desirable, and things
Unlovely to be slighted. Self-love slays
Our noble brother. Bhíma, follow! Each
Pays what his debt was.'
"Which Arjuna heard,
Weeping to see them fall; and that stout son
Of Pandu, that destroyer of his foes,
That prince, who drove through crimson waves of war,
In old days, with his chariot-steeds of milk,
He, the arch-hero, sank! Beholding this,—
The yielding of that soul unconquerable,
Fearless, divine, from Sákra's self derived,
Arjuna's,—Bhíma cried aloud: 'O king!
This man was surely perfect. Never once,
Not even in slumber when the lips are loosed,
Spake he one word that was not true as truth.
Ah, heart of gold, why art thou broke? O King!
Whence falleth he?'
"And Yudhishthira said,
Not pausing: 'Once he lied, a lordly lie!
He bragged—our brother—that a single day
Should see him utterly consume, alone,
All those his enemies,—which could not be.
Yet from a great heart sprang the unmeasured speech.
Howbeit, a finished hero should not shame
Himself in such wise, nor his enemy,
If he will faultless fight and blameless die:
This was Arjuna's sin. Follow thou me!'
"So the king still went on. But Bhíma next
Fainted, and stayed upon the way, and sank;
Yet, sinking cried, behind the steadfast prince:
'Ah, brother, see! I die! Look upon me,
Thy well-beloved! Wherefore falter I,
Who strove to stand?'
"And Yudhishthira said:
'More than was well the goodly things of earth
Pleased thee, my pleasant brother! Light the offence,
And large thy virtue; but the o'er-fed flesh
Plumed itself over spirit. Pritha's son,
For this thou failest, who so near didst gain.'
"Thenceforth alone the long-armed monarch strode,
Not looking back,—nay! not for Bhíma's sake,—
But walking with his face set for the Mount:
And the hound followed him,—only the hound.