Beneath whose hand fierce Páka[459] died.

My life-destroying darts this day

His guilty breath shall rend away,

E'en as the thirsty wild swan drains

Each milk-drop that the wave retains.

Whose blood in foaming streams shall burst

O'er the dry ground which lies athirst,

When by my shafts transfixed and slain

He falls upon the battle plain?

From whose dead corpse shall birds of air