The Bhagavad-Gita.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Chapter I
DHRITIRASHTRA:
RANGED thus for battle on the sacred plain— |
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On Kurukshetra—say, Sanjaya! say | |
What wrought my people, and the Pandavas? | |
SANJAYA:
When he beheld the host of Pandavas |
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Raja Duryôdhana to Drona drew, | 5 |
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 Bhîma chiefs, | 10 |
Benders of bows; Virâta, Yuyudhân, | |
Drupada, eminent upon his car, | |
Dhrishtaket, Chekitân, Kasi’s stout lord, | |
Purujit, Kuntibhôj, and Saivya, | |
With Yudhâmanyu, and Uttamauj | 15 |
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, | 20 |
Then Bhishma, Karna, Kripa fierce in fight, | |
Vikarna, Aswatthâman; 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, | 25 |
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!” | 30 |
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 | 35 |
Burst into sudden clamor; 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: | 40 |
Krishna, with knotted locks, blew his great conch | |
Carved of the “Gaint’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, | 45 |
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, | 50 |
Virâta, Sâtyaki the Unsubdued, | |
Drupada, with his sons, (O Lord of Earth!) | |
Long-armed Subhadra’s children, all blew loud | |
So that the clangor shook their foemen’s hearts, | |
With quaking earth and thundering heav’n. | 55 |
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 | 60 |
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, | 65 |
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 | 70 |
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, | 75 |
Cousins and sons-in-law and nephews, mixed | |
With friends and honored 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: | 80 |
ARJUNA:
Krishna! as I behold, come here to shed |
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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 | 85 |
Gandîv, 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 | 90 |
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 | 95 |
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, | 100 |
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 | 105 |
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? | 110 |
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— | 115 |
Oh, thou Delight of Men, Janârdana? | |
By overthrow of houses perisheth | |
Their sweet continuous household piety, | |
And—rites neglected, piety extinct— | |
Enters impiety upon that home; | 120 |
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 honored ancestors | 125 |
Fall from their place of peace, being bereft | |
Of funeral-cakes and the wan death-water. 1 | |
So teach our holy hymns. Thus, if we slay | |
Kinsfolk and friends for love of earthly power, | |
Ahovat! what an evil fault it were! | 130 |
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, | 135 |
And let fall bow and arrows, sick at heart. | |
Here endeth Chapter I. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ, entitled |
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“Arjun-Vishâd,” or “The Book of the |
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Distress of Arjuna.” |
Note 1. Some repetitionary lines are here omitted. [back] |