Public domain translation by Sir Edwin Arnold (1885), via Project Gutenberg. Presented unabridged.
Dhritirashtra:<br/> Ranged thus for battle on the sacred plain--<br/> On Kurukshetra--say, Sanjaya! say<br/> What wrought my people, and the Pandavas?
Sanjaya:<br/> When he beheld the host of Pandavas,<br/> Raja Duryodhana to Drona drew,<br/> And spake these words: "Ah, Guru! see this line,<br/> How vast it is of Pandu fighting-men,<br/> Embattled by the son of Drupada,<br/> Thy scholar in the war! Therein stand ranked<br/> Chiefs like Arjuna, like to Bhima chiefs,<br/> Benders of bows; Virata, Yuyudhan,<br/> Drupada, eminent upon his car,<br/> Dhrishtaket, Chekitan, Kasi's stout lord,<br/> Purujit, Kuntibhoj, and Saivya,<br/> With Yudhamanyu, and Uttamauj<br/> Subhadra's child; and Drupadi's;-all famed!<br/> All mounted on their shining chariots!<br/> On our side, too,--thou best of Brahmans! see<br/> Excellent chiefs, commanders of my line,<br/> Whose names I joy to count: thyself the first,<br/> Then Bhishma, Karna, Kripa fierce in fight,<br/> Vikarna, Aswatthaman; next to these<br/> Strong Saumadatti, with full many more<br/> Valiant and tried, ready this day to die<br/> For me their king, each with his weapon grasped,<br/> Each skilful in the field. Weakest-meseems-<br/> Our battle shows where Bhishma holds command,<br/> And Bhima, fronting him, something too strong!<br/> Have care our captains nigh to Bhishma's ranks<br/> Prepare what help they may! Now, blow my shell!"
Then, at the signal of the aged king,<br/> With blare to wake the blood, rolling around<br/> Like to a lion's roar, the trumpeter<br/> Blew the great Conch; and, at the noise of it,<br/> Trumpets and drums, cymbals and gongs and horns<br/> Burst into sudden clamour; as the blasts<br/> Of loosened tempest, such the tumult seemed!<br/> Then might be seen, upon their car of gold<br/> Yoked with white steeds, blowing their battle-shells,<br/> Krishna the God, Arjuna at his side:<br/> Krishna, with knotted locks, blew his great conch<br/> Carved of the "Giant's bone;" Arjuna blew<br/> Indra's loud gift; Bhima the terrible--<br/> Wolf-bellied Bhima-blew a long reed-conch;<br/> And Yudhisthira, Kunti's blameless son,<br/> Winded a mighty shell, "Victory's Voice;"<br/> And Nakula blew shrill upon his conch<br/> Named the "Sweet-sounding," Sahadev on his<br/> Called"Gem-bedecked," and Kasi's Prince on his.<br/> Sikhandi on his car, Dhrishtadyumn,<br/> Virata, Satyaki the Unsubdued,<br/> Drupada, with his sons, (O Lord of Earth!)<br/> Long-armed Subhadra's children, all blew loud,<br/> So that the clangour shook their foemen's hearts,<br/> With quaking earth and thundering heav'n.
Then 'twas-<br/> Beholding Dhritirashtra's battle set,<br/> Weapons unsheathing, bows drawn forth, the war<br/> Instant to break-Arjun, whose ensign-badge<br/> Was Hanuman the monkey, spake this thing<br/> To Krishna the Divine, his charioteer:<br/> "Drive, Dauntless One! to yonder open ground<br/> Betwixt the armies; I would see more nigh<br/> These who will fight with us, those we must slay<br/> To-day, in war's arbitrament; for, sure,<br/> On bloodshed all are bent who throng this plain,<br/> Obeying Dhritirashtra's sinful son."
Thus, by Arjuna prayed, (O Bharata!)<br/> Between the hosts that heavenly Charioteer<br/> Drove the bright car, reining its milk-white steeds<br/> Where Bhishma led,and Drona,and their Lords.<br/> "See!" spake he to Arjuna, "where they stand,<br/> Thy kindred of the Kurus:" and the Prince<br/> Marked on each hand the kinsmen of his house,<br/> Grandsires and sires, uncles and brothers and sons,<br/> Cousins and sons-in-law and nephews, mixed<br/> With friends and honoured elders; some this side,<br/> Some that side ranged: and, seeing those opposed,<br/> Such kith grown enemies-Arjuna's heart<br/> Melted with pity, while he uttered this:
Arjuna.<br/> Krishna! as I behold, come here to shed<br/> Their common blood, yon concourse of our kin,<br/> My members fail, my tongue dries in my mouth,<br/> A shudder thrills my body, and my hair<br/> Bristles with horror; from my weak hand slips<br/> Gandiv, the goodly bow; a fever burns<br/> My skin to parching; hardly may I stand;<br/> The life within me seems to swim and faint;<br/> Nothing do I foresee save woe and wail!<br/> It is not good, O Keshav! nought of good<br/> Can spring from mutual slaughter! Lo, I hate<br/> Triumph and domination, wealth and ease,<br/> Thus sadly won! Aho! what victory<br/> Can bring delight, Govinda! what rich spoils<br/> Could profit; what rule recompense; what span<br/> Of life itself seem sweet, bought with such blood?<br/> Seeing that these stand here, ready to die,<br/> For whose sake life was fair, and pleasure pleased,<br/> And power grew precious:-grandsires, sires, and sons,<br/> Brothers, and fathers-in-law, and sons-in-law,<br/> Elders and friends! Shall I deal death on these<br/> Even though they seek to slay us? Not one blow,<br/> O Madhusudan! will I strike to gain
The rule of all Three Worlds; then, how much less<br/> To seize an earthly kingdom! Killing these<br/> Must breed but anguish, Krishna! If they be<br/> Guilty, we shall grow guilty by their deaths;<br/> Their sins will light on us, if we shall slay<br/> Those sons of Dhritirashtra, and our kin;<br/> What peace could come of that, O Madhava?<br/> For if indeed, blinded by lust and wrath,<br/> These cannot see, or will not see, the sin<br/> Of kingly lines o'erthrown and kinsmen slain,<br/> How should not we, who see, shun such a crime--<br/> We who perceive the guilt and feel the shame--<br/> O thou Delight of Men, Janardana?<br/> By overthrow of houses perisheth<br/> Their sweet continuous household piety,<br/> And-rites neglected, piety extinct--<br/> Enters impiety upon that home;<br/> Its women grow unwomaned, whence there spring<br/> Mad passions, and the mingling-up of castes,<br/> Sending a Hell-ward road that family,<br/> And whoso wrought its doom by wicked wrath.<br/> Nay, and the souls of honoured ancestors<br/> Fall from their place of peace, being bereft<br/> Of funeral-cakes and the wan death-water.[FN#1]<br/> So teach our holy hymns. Thus, if we slay<br/> Kinsfolk and friends for love of earthly power,<br/> Ahovat! what an evil fault it were!<br/> Better I deem it, if my kinsmen strike,<br/> To face them weaponless, and bare my breast<br/> To shaft and spear, than answer blow with blow.
So speaking, in the face of those two hosts,<br/> Arjuna sank upon his chariot-seat,<br/> And let fall bow and arrows, sick at heart.
HERE ENDETH CHAPTER I. OF THE BHAGAVAD-GITA,<br/> Entitled "Arjun-Vishad,"<br/> Or "The Book of the Distress of Arjuna."