e ruler of the Madras in battle, himself
supported on all sides by a large division of cars. And Sankha, causing
an arrowy downpour rushed towards the car on which Salya was. And
beholding him advancing like an infuriate elephant, seven mighty
car-warriors of thy side surrounded him--desirous of rescuing the ruler
of the Madras already within the jaws of death. Then the mighty-armed
Bhishma, roaring like the very clouds, and taking up a bow full six
cubits long, rushed towards Sankha in battle. And beholding that mighty
car-warrior and great bowman thus rushing, the Pandava host began to
tremble like a boat tossed by a violence of the tempest. Then Arjuna,
quickly advancing, placed himself in front of Sankha, thinking that
Sankha should then be protected from Bhishma. And then the combat
commenced between Bhishma and Arjuna. And loud cries of oh and alas arose
among the warriors engaged in battle. And one force seemed to merge into
another force. And thus all were filled with wonder.[351] Then Salya,
mace in hand, alighting from his large car, slew, O bull of Bharata's
race, the four steeds of Sankha. Jumping down from his car thus deprived
of steeds, and taking a sword, Sankha ran towards Vibhatsu's car and
(mounting on it) was once more at his ease. And then there fell from
Bhishma's car innumerable arrows by which were covered the entire welkin
and the earth. And that foremost of smiters, Bhishma, slaughtered with
his arrows the Panchala, the Matsya, the Kekaya, and the Prabhadraka
host. And soon abandoning in that battle, Pandu's son (Arjuna) capable of
drawing the bow with even his left hand, Bhishma rushed towards Drupada,
the king of the Panchalas, surrounded by his host. And he soon covered
his dear relative with innumerable arrows. Like a forest consumed by fire
at the end of winter, the troops of Drupada were seen to be consumed. And
Bhishma stood in that battle like a blazing fire without smoke, or like
the Sun himself at midday scorching everything around with his heat. The
combatants of the Pandavas were not able to even look at Bhishma. And
afflicted with fear, the Pandava host cast its eyes around, and not
beholding any protector, looked like a herd of kine afflicted by cold.
Slaughtered or retreating in despondence being crushed the while, loud
cries, O Bharata, of oh and alas arose among the troops of the Pandavas.
Then Bhishma the son of Santanu, with bow always drawn to a circle, shot
therefrom blazing