And sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung.
That mighty host with sword and shield
And oar was ready for the field:
And Khara saw, and Dúshan cried,
“Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride.”
Then banners waved, and shield and sword
Flashed as the host obeyed its lord.
From Janasthán they sallied out
With eager speed, and din, and shout,
Armed with the mace for close attacks,