Weakest
me seems Our battle shows where Bhishma holds command, And Bhima,
fronting him, something too strong! Have care our captains nigh to
Bhishma's ranks Prepare what help they may! Now, blow my
shell!"
Then, at the signal of the aged king,
With blare to wake the blood, rolling around Like to a lion's roar,
the trumpeter Blew the great Conch; and, at the noise of it,
Trumpets and drums, cymbals and gongs and horns Burst into sudden
clamour; as the blasts Of loosened tempest, such the tumult seemed!
Then might be seen, upon their car of gold Yoked with white steeds,
blowing their battle-shells, Krishna the God, Arjuna at
his side: Krishna, with knotted locks, blew his great conch Carved
of the "Giant's bone; Arjuna blew Indra's loud
gift; Bhima the terrible- Wolf-bellied Bhima- blew a long
reed-conch;
And Yudhisthira, Kunti's blameless son,
Winded a mighty shell, "Victory's Voice;" And Nakula blew
shrill upon his conch Named the "Sweet-sounding," Sahadev
on his Called "Gem-bedecked," and Kasi's Prince
on his. Sikhandi on his car, Dhrishtadyumn,
Virata, Satyaki the Unsubdued, Drupada, with
his sons, (O Lord of Earth!) Long-armed Subhadra's children, all
blew loud, So that the clangour shook their foemen's hearts, With
quaking earth and thundering heaven.
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