III
Abhimanyu's Death
Fatal was the blood-red morning purpling o'er the angry east,
Fatal day for Abhimanyu, bravest warrior and the best,
Countless were the gallant chieftains like the sands beside the sea,
None with braver bosom battled, none with hands more stout and free!
Brief, alas! thy radiant summers, fair Subhadra's gallant boy,
Loved of Matsya's soft-eyed princess and her young heart's pride and joy!
Brief, alas! thy sunlit winters, light of war too early quenched,
Peerless son of peerless Arjun, in the blood of foemen drenched!
Drona on that fatal morning ranged his dreadful battle-line
In a circle darkly spreading where the chiefs with chiefs combine,
And the Pandavs looked despairing on the battle's dread array,
Vainly strove to force a passage, vainly sought their onward way!
Abhimanyu, young and fiery, dashed alone into the war,
Reckless through the shattered forces all resistless drove his car,
Elephants and crashing standards, neighing steeds and warriors slain
Fell before the furious hero as he made a ghastly lane!