Then with wild despairing valour, flickering flame and closing life,
Mace in hand the heedless warrior rushed to end the mortal strife,
Rushed upon his startled foemen, Abhimanyu fought and fell,
And his deeds to distant ages bards and wand'ring minstrels tell!
Like a tusker of the forest by surrounding hunters slain,
Like a wood-consuming wildfire quenched upon the distant plain,
Like a mountain-shaking tempest, spent in force and hushed and still,
Like the red resplendent day-god setting on the western hill,
Like the moon serene and beauteous quenched in eclipse, dark and pale,
Lifeless slumbered Abhimanyu when the softened starlight fell!
Done the day of death and slaughter, darkening shadows close around,
Wearied warriors seek for shelter on the vast and tented ground,
Soldiers' camp-fires brightly blazing, tent-lights shining from afar,
Cast their fitful gleam and radiance on the carnage of the war!
Arjun from a field at distance, where upon that day he fought,
With the ever faithful Krishna now his nightly shelter sought,
“Wherefore, Krishna,” uttered Arjun, “evil omens strike my eye,
Thoughts of sadness fill my bosom, wake the long-forgotten sigh?
Wherefore voice of evening bugle speaks not on the battle-field,
Merry conch nor sounding trumpet music to the warriors yield?