If that knee, by which thou sinnest, Bhima breaks not in his ire,
In the battle's red arena with his weapon, deathful, dire!”
Red fire flamed on Bhima's forehead, sparkled from his angry eye,
As from tough and gnarléd branches fast the crackling red sparks fly!
IV
Dhrita-rastra's Kindness
Hark! within the sacred chamber, where the priests in white attire
With libations morn and evening feed the sacrificial fire,
And o'er sacred rights of homa Brahmans chant their mantra high,
There is heard the jackal's wailing and the raven's ominous cry!
Wise Vidura knew that omen, and the Queen Gandhari knew,
Bhishma muttered “svasti! svasti!” at this portent strange and new,
Drona and preceptor Kripa uttered too that holy word,
Spake her fears the Queen Gandhari to her spouse and royal lord.
Dhrita-rashtra heard and trembled with a sudden holy fear,
And his feeble accents quavered, and his eyes were dimmed by tear:
“Son Duryodhan, ever luckless, godless, graceless, witless child,
Hast thou Drupad's virtuous daughter thus insulted and reviled,