Prone on his face he fell, that noble face
Which had no match for beauty in the land,--
Glorious and godlike Nakalu! Then sighed
Bhima anew: "Brother and Lord! the man
Who never erred from virtue, never broke
Our fellowship, and never in the world
Was matched for goodly perfectness of form
Or gracious feature,--Nakalu has fallen!"

But Yudhi-sthira, holding fixed his eyes,--
That changeless, faithful, all-wise king,--replied:
"Yea, but he erred! The god-like form he wore
Beguiled him to believe none like to him,
And he alone desirable, and things
Unlovely, to be slighted. Self-love slays
Our noble brother. Bhima, follow! Each
Pays what his debt was."

Which Arjuna heard,
Weeping to see them fall; and that stout son
Of Pandu, that destroyer of his foes,
That Prince, who drove through crimson waves of war,
In old days, with his milk-white chariot-steeds,
Him, the arch hero, sank! Beholding this,--
The yielding of that soul unconquerable,

Fearless, divine, from Sakra's self derived,
Arjuna's--Bhima cried aloud: "O King!
This man was surely perfect. Never once,
Not even in slumber, when the lips are loosed,