• Dhritirashtra. Ranged thus for battle on the sacred plain-
• On Kurukshetra- say, Sanjaya! say
• What wrought my people, and the Pandavas?
• Sanjaya. When he beheld the host of Pandavas,
• Raja Duryodhana to Drona drew,
• And spake these words: "Ah, Guru! see this line,
• How vast it is of Pandu fighting-men,
• Embattled by the son of Drupada,
• Thy scholar in the war! Therein stand ranked
• Chiefs like Arjuna, like to Bhima chiefs,
• Benders of bows; Virata, Yuyudhan,
• Drupada, eminent upon his car,
• Dhrishtaket, Chekitan, Kasi's stout lord,
• Purujit, Kuntibhoj, and Saivya,
• With Yudhamanyu, and Uttamauj
• Subhadra's child; and Drupadi's;- all famed!
• All mounted on their shining chariots!
• On our side, too,- thou best of Brahmans! see
• Excellent chiefs, commanders of my line,
• Whose names I joy to count: thyself the first,
• Then Bhishma, Karna, Kripa fierce in fight,
• Vikarna, Aswatthaman; next to these
• Strong Saumadatti, with full many more
• Valiant and tried, ready this day to die
• For me their king, each with his weapon grasped,
• Each skilful in the field. Weakest- meseems-
• Our battle shows where Bhishma holds command,
• And Bhima, fronting him, something too strong!
• Have care our captains nigh to Bhishma's ranks
• Prepare what help they may! Now, blow my shell!"
• Then, at the signal of the aged king,
• With blare to wake the blood, rolling around
• Like to a lion's roar, the trumpeter
• Blew the great Conch; and, at the noise of it,
• Trumpets and drums, cymbals and gongs and horns
• Burst into sudden clamour; as the blasts
• Of loosened tempest, such the tumult seemed!
• Then might be seen, upon their car of gold
• Yoked with white steeds, blowing their battle-shells,
• Krishna the God, Arjuna at his side:
• Krishna, with knotted locks, blew his great conch
• Carved of the "Giant's bone;" Arjuna blew
• Indra's loud gift; Bhima the terrible-
• Wolf-bellied Bhima- blew a long reed-conch;
• And Yudhisthira, Kunti's blameless son,
• Winded a mighty shell, "Victory's Voice;"
• And Nakula blew shrill upon his conch
• Named the "Sweet-sounding," Sahadev on his
• Called "Gem-bedecked," and Kasi's Prince on his.
• Sikhandi on his car, Dhrishtadyumn,
• Virata, Satyaki the Unsubdued,
• Drupada, with his sons, (O Lord of Earth!)
• Long-armed Subhadra's children, all blew loud,
• So that the clangour shook their foemen's hearts,
• With quaking earth and thundering heav'n.
• Then 'twas-
• Beholding Dhritirashtra's battle set,
• Weapons unsheathing, bows drawn forth, the war
• Instant to break- Arjun, whose ensign-badge
• Was Hanuman the monkey, spake this thing
• To Krishna the Divine, his charioteer:
• "Drive, Dauntless One! to yonder open ground
• Betwixt the armies; I would see more nigh
• These who will fight with us, those we must slay
• To-day, in war's arbitrament; for, sure,
• On bloodshed all are bent who throng this plain,
• Obeying Dhritirashtra's sinful son."
• Thus, by Arjuna prayed, (O Bharata!)
• Between the hosts that heavenly Charioteer
• Drove the bright car, reining its milk-white steeds
• Where Bhishma led, and Drona, and their Lords.
• "See!" spake he to Arjuna, "where they stand,
• Thy kindred of the Kurus:" and the Prince
• Marked on each hand the kinsmen of his house,
• Grandsires and sires, uncles and brothers and sons,
• Cousins and sons-in-law and nephews, mixed
• With friends and honoured elders; some this side,
• Some that side ranged: and, seeing those opposed,
• Such kith grown enemies- Arjuna's heart
• Melted with pity, while he uttered this:
• Arjuna. Krishna! as I behold, come here to shed
• Their common blood, yon concourse of our kin,
• My members fail, my tongue dries in my mouth,
• A shudder thrills my body, and my hair
• Bristles with horror; from my weak hand slips
• Gandiv, the goodly bow; a fever burns
• My skin to parching; hardly may I stand;
• The life within me seems to swim and faint;
• Nothing do I foresee save woe and wail!
• It is not good, O Keshav! nought of good
• Can spring from mutual slaughter! Lo, I hate
• Triumph and domination, wealth and ease,
• Thus sadly won! Aho! what victory
• Can bring delight, Govinda! what rich spoils
• Could profit; what rule recompense; what span
• Of life itself seem sweet, bought with such blood?
• Seeing that these stand here, ready to die,
• For whose sake life was fair, and pleasure pleased,
• And power grew precious:- grandsires, sires, and sons,
• Brothers, and fathers-in-law, and sons-in-law,
• Elders and friends! Shall I deal death on these
• Even though they seek to slay us? Not one blow,
• O Madhusudan! will I strike to gain
• The rule of all Three Worlds; then, how much less
• To seize an earthly kingdom! Killing these
• Must breed but anguish, Krishna! If they be
• Guilty, we shall grow guilty by their deaths;
• Their sins will light on us, if we shall slay
• Those sons of Dhritirashtra, and our kin;
• What peace could come of that, O Madhava?
• For if indeed, blinded by lust and wrath,
• These cannot see, or will not see, the sin
• Of kingly lines o'erthrown and kinsmen slain,
• How should not we, who see, shun such a crime-
• We who perceive the guilt and feel the shame-
• O thou Delight of Men, Janardana?
• By overthrow of houses perisheth
• Their sweet continuous household piety,
• And- rites neglected, piety extinct-
• Enters impiety upon that home;
• Its women grow unwomaned, whence there spring
• Mad passions, and the mingling-up of castes,
• Sending a Hell-ward road that family,
• And whoso wrought its doom by wicked wrath.
• Nay, and the souls of honoured ancestors
• Fall from their place of peace, being bereft
• Of funeral-cakes and the wan death-water.
• So teach our holy hymns. Thus, if we slay
• Kinsfolk and friends for love of earthly power,
• Ahovat! what an evil fault it were!
• Better I deem it, if my kinsmen strike,
• To face them weaponless, and bare my breast
• To shaft and spear, than answer blow with blow.
• So speaking, in the face of those two hosts,
• Arjuna sank upon his chariot-seat,
• And let fall bow and arrows, sick at heart.

HERE ENDETH Chapter I OF THE BHAGAVAD-GITA, Entitled "Arjun-Vishad," Or "The Book of the Distress of Arjuna."