The faces of those beautiful ladies, O Madhava, through toil and
the rays of the Sun, are looking like faded lotuses. There, the brave
sons of Dhrishtadyumna, of tender years and all adorned with garlands of
gold and beautiful angadas, are lying, slain by Drona. Like insects on a
blazing fire, they have all been burnt by falling upon Drona, whose car
was the chamber of fire, having the bow for its flame and shafts and
darts and maces for its fuel. Similarly, the five Kekaya brothers,
possessed of great courage, and adorned with beautiful angadas, are lying
on the ground, slain by Drona and with their faces turned towards that
hero. Their coats of mail, of the splendour of heated gold, and their
tall standards and cars and garlands, all made of the same metal, are
shedding a bright light on the earth like so many blazing fires. Behold,
O Madhava, king Drupada overthrown in battle by Drona, like a mighty
elephant in the forest slain by a huge lion. The bright umbrella, white
in hue of the king of the Pancalas, shines, O lotus-eyed one, like the
moon in the autumnal firmament. The daughters-in-law and the wives of the
old king, afflicted with grief, having burnt his body on the funeral
pyre, are proceeding, keeping the pyre to their right. There those
ladies, deprived of their senses, are removing the brave and great bowman
Dhrishtaketu, that bull among the Cedis, slain by Drona. This crusher of
foes, O slayer of Madhu, this great bowman, having baffled many weapons
of Drona, lieth there, deprived of life, like a tree uprooted by the
wind.
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