MAHABHARATA CONDENSED INTO ENGLISH ... - Mandhata Global

Mounted on their milk-white chargers proudly did the princes sweep,
Like the sea-birds skimming gaily o'er the bosom of the deep,
Five of stout Gandhara's princes in that fatal combat fen,
And a sixth in fear and faintness fled the woeful tale to tell!
Short, alas, Iravat's triumph, transient was the victor's joy,
Alumbusha dark and dreadful came against the gallant boy,
Fierce and fateful was the combat, mournful is the tale to tell,
Like a lotus rudely severed gallant son of Arjun fell!
Arjun heard the tale of sorrow and his heart was filled with grief,
And he spake a father's anguish in his accents few and brief:
"Wherefore, Krishna, for a kingdom mingle in this fatal fray,
Kinsmen killed and comrades slaughtered,-dear, alas, the price we pay!
Woe unto Hastiria's empire built upon our children's grave,
Dearer than the throne of monarchs was Iravat young and brave,
Young in years and rich in beauty, with thy mother's winsome eye,
Art thou slain, my gallant warrior, and thy father was not nigh?
But thy young blood calls for vengeance! noble Krishna, drive the car,
Let them feel the father's prowess, those who slew the son in war!"
And he dashed the rising tear-drop and his words were few and brief,
Broken ranks and slaughtered chieftains spoke an angry father's grief,
Bhima too revenged Iravat, and as onward still he flew,
Brothers of the proud Duryodhan in that fatal combat slew,
Still advanced the fatal carnage till the darksome close of day,
When the wounded and the weary with the dead and lying lay!
IX
PANDAVS ROUTED BY BHISHMA
Fell the thickening shades of darkness on the red and ghastly plain,
Torches by the white tents flickered, red fires showed the countless slain,
With a bosom sorrow-laden proud Duryodhan drew his breath,
Wept the issue of the battle and his warlike brother's death.