At the leonine roars of
Bhimasena and the blare of Panchajanya and the twang of Gandiva, our
heart will die away within us. Moving like flashes of lightning, and
blinding our eyes, Arjuna's Gandiva is seen to resemble a circle of fire.
Decked with pure gold, that formidable bow as it is shaken, looks
lightning's flash moving about on every side. Steeds white in hue and
possessed of great speed and endued with the splendour of the Moon or the
Kasa grass, and that run devouring the skies, are yoked unto his car.
Urged on by Krishna, like the masses of clouds driven by the wind, and
their limbs decked with gold, they bear Arjuna to battle. That foremost
of all persons conversant with arms, Arjuna, burned that great force of
thine like a swelling conflagration consuming dry grass in the forest in
the season of winter. Possessed of the splendour of Indra himself, while
penetrating into our ranks, we have seen Dhananjaya to look like an
elephant with four tusks. While agitating thy army and inspiring the
kings with fear, we have seen Dhananjaya to resemble an elephant
agitating a lake overgrown with lotuses. While terrifying all the
warriors with the twang of his bow, we have again seen the son of Pandu
to resemble a lion inspiring smaller animals with dread. Those two
foremost of bowmen in all the worlds, those two bulls among all persons
armed with the bow, the two Krishnas, clad in mail, are looking
exceedingly beautiful. Today is the seventeenth day of this awful battle,
O Bharata, of those that are being slaughtered in the midst of this
fight.
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