Indian Idylls · 7 of 9

The Night of Slaughter

(FROM THE OPENING OF THE SAUPTIKA PARVA OF THE MAHÂBHÂRATA. VOL II. OF THE CALCUTTA QUARTO EDITION.)

To Narayen, Best of lords, be glory given, To great Saraswati, the Queen in heaven; Unto Vyâsa, too, be paid his meed, So shall this story worthily proceed.

"THOSE vanquished warriors then," Sanjaya said, Fled southwards and, near sunset, past the tents Unyoked; abiding close, in fear and rage. There was a wood beyond the camp, untrod, Quiet; and in its leafy harbor lay The Princes, some among them bleeding still From spear and arrow gashes; all sore spent, Fetching faint breath, and fighting o'er again In thought that battle. But there came a noise Of Pandavas pursuing, -fierce and loud Outcries of victory; whereat these chiefs Sullenly rose, and yoked their steeds again, Driving due east; and eastward still they drave Under the dusk, till drouth and desperate toil Stayed horse and man; then took they lair again The panting horses, and the Princes, wroth With chilled wounds, and the death-stroke of their King.

. . . . .

Now were they come, my Prince! Sanjaya said, Unto a jungle thick with stems, whereon The tangled creepers coiled; here entered they, Watering the horses at a stream, and pushed Deep in the thicket. Many a beast and bird Sprang startled at their feet; the long grass stirred With serpents creeping off - the woodland flowers Shook, where the pea-fowls hid; and, where frogs plungèd, The swarm rocked all its reeds and lotus-buds. A banian-tree, with countless dropping boughs Earth-rooted, spied they, and beneath its aisles A pool; hereby they stayed, tethering their steeds, And, dipping water, made the evening prayer.

"But when the 'Daymaker' sank in the west, And Night descended,- gentle, soothing Night, Who comforts all, with silver splendor decked Of stars and constellations, and soft folds Of tender darkness drawn,- then the wild things Which roam in darkness woke, wandering afoot Under the gloom. Horrid the forest grew With roar and yelp and yell, around that place Where Kripa, Kritavarman, and the son Of Drona lay beneath the banian-tree, Full many a piteous passage instancing In their lost battle-day of dreadful blood; Till sleep fell heavy on the wearied lids Of Bhoja's child and Kripa. Then these lords, To princely life and silken couches used, Sought on the bare earth slumber, spent and sad, As homeless outcasts lodge.

"But, O my King! There came no sleep to Drona's angry son, Great Aswatthâman. As a snake lies coiled And hisses breathing, so his panting breath Hissed rage and hatred round him, where he lay, Chin uppermost, arm-pillowed, with fierce eyes Roving the wood, and seeing sightlessly. Thus chanced it that his wandering glances turned Into the fig-tree's shadows, where there perched A thousand crows, thick roosting, on its limbs, - Some nested, some on branchlets, - deep asleep, Heads under wings, all fearless; nor, O Prince! Had Aswatthâman more than marked the birds, When fierce there fell out of the velvet night, Silent and terrible, an eagle-owl, With wide, soft, deadly, dusky wings, and eyes Flame-colored, and long claws, and dreadful beak, Like a winged sprite, or great Garood himself. Offspring of Bhârata! it lighted there Upon the banian bough; hooted - but low - The fury smothering in its throat, then fell With murderous beak and claws upon those crows; Rending the wings from this, the legs from that, From some the heads, of some ripping the crops; Till, tens and scores, the fowl rained down to earth Bloody and plucked, and all the ground waxed black With piled crow-carcasses; whilst that great owl Hooted for joy of vengeance, and again Spread the wide, deadly, dusky wings.

"Up sprang The son of Drona: 'Lo! this owl,' quoth he, 'Teacheth me wisdom - lo! one slayeth so Insolent foes asleep. The Kuru Lords Are all too strong in arms by day to kill; They triumph, being many. Yet I swore Before the King, my father, I would kill And kill, -even as a foolish fly should swear To quench a flame. It scorched; and I shall die If I dare open battle - but by art Men vanquish fortune and the mightiest odds. If there be two ways to a wise man's wish, But only one way sure, he taketh that And if it be an evil way, condemned For Brahmans, yet the Kshattriya may do that Which vengeance bids against his foes. Our foes The Pandavas, are furious, treacherous, base, Halting at nothing; and how say the wise In holy Shasters? - "Wounded, wearied, fed, Or fasting - sleeping, waking, setting forth, Or new arriving; slay thine enemies!" And so again: "At midnight, when they sleep; Dawn, when they watch noon, if their leaders fall Eve, should they scatter all the times and hours Are times and hours good for killing foes."' So did the son of Drona steel his soul To break upon the sleeping Pandu chiefs And slay them in the darkness. Being set On this unlordly deed, and clear in scheme, He from their slumbers roused the warriors twain, Kripa and Kritavarman."