cken with great
grief, his wife is weeping bitterly at sight of his blood-stained arms,
which, however, formerly used to be smeared with sandal-paste. Indeed,
the beauteous one exclaims, "Even now adorned with beautiful palms and
graceful fingers, these two arms of thine resemble a couple of spiked
maces, getting within whose clasp, joy never left me for a moment! What
will be my end, O ruler of men, when I am deprived of thee?" Endued with
a melodious voice, the Kamboja queen is weeping helplessly and quivering
with emotion. Behold that bevy of fair ladies there. Although tired with
exertion and worn out with heat, yet beauty leaves not their forms, like
the sightliness of the wreaths worn by the celestials although exposed to
the Sun. Behold, O slayer of Madhu, the heroic ruler of the Kalingas
lying there on the ground with his mighty arms adorned with a couple of
angadas. Behold, O Janardana, those Magadha ladies crying and standing
around Jayatsena, the ruler of the Magadhas. The charming and melodious
wails of those long-eyed and sweet-voiced girls, O Krishna, are
stupefying my heart exceedingly. With all their ornaments displaced,
crying, and afflicted with grief, alas, those ladies of Magadha, worthy
of resting on costly beds, are now lying down on the bare ground! There,
again, those other ladies, surrounding their lord, the ruler of the
Kosalas, prince Brihadbala, are indulging in loud wails. Engaged in
plucking from his body the shafts with which it was pierced by Abhimanyu
with the full might of his arms, those ladies are repeatedly losing their
senses. 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 ove