Grasping a bow with arrows fixed on the string and uttering his war cries incessantly and loud. Behind him followed the ruler of the Bangas himself, supported by ten thousand elephants prodigious like the hills and with the temporal juice flowing down. Beholding your son surrounded by the elephant division rush to battle, O mighty monarch, that night-ranger became inflamed with wrath; then regard a combat, dreadful and hair stirring.