Ten long years and three Yudhishthir joy nor peace nor rest hath seen,
And while Karna lives and glories, all our insults still are green,
Hast thou, Arjun, slain that chieftain as in swelling pride he stood,
Hast thou wiped our wrongs and insults in that chariot-driver's blood?”
“At a distance,” Krishna answered, “fiery Arjun fought his way,
Now he meets the archer Karna, and he vows his death to-day.”
Anger lit Yudhishthir's forehead, and a tremor shook his frame,
As he spake to silent Arjun words of insult and of shame:
“Wherefore like a painted warrior doth the helméd Arjun stand,
Wherefore useless lies gandiva in his weak and nerveless hand,
Wherefore hangs yon mighty sabre from his belt of silk and gold,
Wherefore doth the peerless Krishna drive his coursers fleet and bold,
If afar from war's arena timid Arjun seeks to hide,
If he shuns the mighty Karna battling in unconquered pride?
Arjun! yield thy famed gandiva unto worthier hands than thine,
On some braver, truer warrior let thy mighty standard shine,
Yield thy helmet and thy armour, yield thy gleaming sword and shield,
Hide thee from this deathful battle, matchless Karna rules the field!”
Sparkled Arjun's eye in anger with a red and livid flame,
And the tempest of his passion shook his more than mortal frame,