Bhima came and proud Duryodhan with their maces lifted high,
Like two cliffs with lofty turrets cleaving through the azure sky,
In their warlike arms accoutred with their girded loins they stood,
Like two untamed jungle tuskers in the deep and echoing wood!
And as tuskers range the forest, so they range the spacious field,
Right to left and back they wander and their ponderous maces wield,
Unto Kuru’s sightless monarch wise Vidura drew the scene,
Pritha proudly of the princes spake unto the Kuru queen.
While the stalwart Bhima battled with Duryodhan brave and strong,
Fierce in wrath, for one or other, shouted forth the maddened throng,
‘Hail to Kuru prince Duryodhan!’ ‘Hail to Bhima hero proud!’
Sounds like these from surging myriads rose in tumult deep and loud,
And with troubled vision Drona marked the heaving restless plain,
Marked the crowd by anger shaken, like the tempest-shaken main,
To his son he softly whispered quick the tumult to appease,
Part the armed and angry wrestlers, bid the deadly combat cease,
With their lifted clubs the princes slow retired on signal given,
Like the parting of the billows, mighty-heaving, tempest-driven!
Came forth then the ancient Drona on the open battle-ground,
Stopped the drum and lofty trumpet, spake in voice like thunder’s sound:
‘Bid him come, the gallant Arjun! pious prince and warrior skilled,
Arjun, born of mighty INDRA, and with VISHNU’S prowess filled.’