In early youth I learned to use the bow—
I pray thee, therefore, send me forth against
The wretch that dares to wrest this land from thee."
And ere the treacherous wretch could string his bow,
A pointed arrow carrying death with it,
Like lightning flew from forth the maiden's hands,
Pierced deep into his head, that plans devised
To kill his royal master and once more
Thought ill of Panchala and her good king.
His body lifeless lay upon the field.