Mahabharata, Epic of the Bharatas

Book VIII. Bhishma-Badha (Fall of Bhishma) – 97
Fell Yudhishthir’s lofty standard, shook his chariot battle-tost,
Fell his proud and fiery coursers, and the dreadful day was lost,
Sahadeva and Nakula vainly strove with all their might,
Till their broken scattered forces rested in the shades of night!
VIII. Iravat slain
[307] Morning saw the turn of battle; Bhishma’s charioteer was slain,
And his coursers uncontrolléd flew across the reddened plain,
Ill it fared with Kuru forces when their leader went astray,
And their foremost chiefs and warriors with the dead and dying lay.
But Gandhara’s mounted princes rode across the battle-ground, –
For its steeds and matchless chargers is Gandhara’s realm renowned,
And to smite the young Iravat fierce Gandhara’s princes swore, –
Brave Iravat son of Arjun, whom a Naga princess bore!
Mounted on their milk-white chargers proudly did the princes sweep,
Like the sea-birds skimming gaily o’er the bosom of the deep,
Five of stout Gandhara’s princes in that fatal combat fell,
And a sixth in fear and faintness fled the woeful tale to tell!
Short, alas, Iravat’s triumph, transient was the victor’s joy,
Alumbusha dark and dreadful came against the gallant boy,
Fierce and fateful was the combat, mournful is the tale to tell,
Like a lotus rudely severed gallant son of Arjun fell!
Arjun heard the tale of sorrow and his heart was filled with grief,
And he spake a father’s anguish in his accents few and brief:
“Wherefore, Krishna, for a kingdom mingle in this fatal fray,
Kinsmen killed and comrades slaughtered, – dear, alas, the price we pay!
Woe unto Hastina’s empire built upon our children’s grave,
Dearer than the throne of monarchs was Iravat young and brave,
Young in years and rich in beauty, with thy mother’s winsome eye,
Art thou slain, my gallant warrior, and thy father was not nigh?