vements that none could obtain a
sight of his person. Deprived of life, that foremost and chief of all
ornaments of battle fell down on the earth, like a huge hill uprooted by
a mighty tempest. His followers then, struck with fear, fled away in all
directions. Beholding that feat of the son of Arjuna, all creatures were
highly gratified, and cheered him, O Bharata, with loud shouts of
"Excellent, Excellent!"

"'After Salya's brother had thus been slain, many followers of his, loudly
proclaiming their families, places of residence, and names, rushed
against Arjuna's son, filled with rage and armed with diverse weapons.
Some of them were on cars, some on steeds and some on elephants; and
others advanced on foot. And all of them were endued with fierce might.
And they rushed frightening the son of Arjuna with the loud whiz of their
arrows, the deep roar of their car-wheels, their fierce whoops and shouts
and cries, their leonine roars, the loud twang of their bow-string, and
the slaps of their palms. And they said, "Thou shalt not escape us with
life today!" Hearing them say so, the son of Subhadra, smiling the while,
pierced with his shafts those amongst them that had pierced him first.
Displaying diverse weapons of beautiful look and of great celerity, the
heroic son of Arjuna battled mildly with them. Those weapons that he had
received from Vasudeva and those that he had received from Dhananjaya,
Abhimanyu displayed in the very same way as Vasudeva and Dhananjaya.
Disregarding the heavy burthen he had taken upon himself and casting off
all fear, he repeatedly shot his arrows. No interval, again, could be
noticed between his aiming and letting off an arrow. Only his trembling
bow drawn to a circle could be seen on every side, looking like the
blazing disc of the autumnal sun. And the twang of his bow, and the slap
of his palms, O Bharata, were heard to resound like the roaring of clouds
charged with thunder. Modest, wrathful, reverential to superiors, and
exceedingly handsome, the son of Subhadra, out of regard for the hostile
heroes, fought with them mildly. Commencing gently, O king, he gradually
became fierce, like the illustrious maker of the day when autumn comes
after the season of the rains is over. Like the Sun himself shedding his
rays, Abhimanyu, filled with wrath, shot hundreds and thousands of
whetted arrows, furnished with golden wings. In the very sight of
Bharadwaja's son, that celebrated warrior covered th