But the ever faithful Arjun to his virtuous elder bowed,
And in clear and manful accents spake his warlike thoughts aloud:
“Sacred is our great preceptor, sacred is acharya's life,
Arjun may not slay his teacher even in this mortal strife!
Saving this, command, O monarch, Arjun's bow and warlike sword,
For thy safety, honoured elder, Arjun stakes his plighted word!
Matchless in the art of battle is our teacher fierce and dread,
But he comes not to Yudhishthir save o'er blood of Arjun shed!”
Morning witnessed doughty Drona foremost in the battle's tide,
But Yudhishthir's warlike chieftains compassed him on every side,
Foremost of the youthful chieftains came resistless Arjun's son,—
Father's blood and milk of mother fired his deeds of valour done,
As the lion of the jungle drags the ox into his lair,
Abhimanyu from his chariot dragged Paurava by the hair!
Jayadratha king of Sindhu marked the faint and bleeding chief,
Leaping from his car of battle, wrathful came to his relief,
Abhimanyu left his captive, turned upon the mightier foe,
And with sword and hardened buckler gave and parried many a blow,
Rank to rank from both the forces cry of admiration rose,
Streaming men poured forth in wonder, watched the combat fierce and close!