When he will behold in battle the golden car of Satyaki of Madhu’s race, drawn by four white steeds, then will that wretch of uncontrolled passions, the son of Dhritarashtra, repent.  When he will also behold my terrible car, endued with the effulgence of gold and bright gems, drawn by white steeds and furnished with the banner bearing the device of the Ape and guided by Kesava himself, then will that wretch of uncontrolled passions repent.  When he will hear the fierce twang produced by the constant stretch of the bow-string with fingers cased in leather gloves,—­that terrible twang, loud as the rolling of the thunder, of my bow Gandiva wielded by me in the midst of the great battle,—­then will that wicked wretch, the son of Dhritarashtra repent, beholding himself abandoned by his troops, flying away like kine from the field of battle in all directions, overwhelmed with the darkness created by my arrowy downpour.  When he will behold innumerable keen-edged arrows, furnished with beautiful wings, and capable of penetrating into the very vitals, shot from the string of Gandiva, like fierce and terrible flashes of lightning emitted by the clouds, destroying enemies by thousands, and devouring numberless steeds and elephants clad in mail, then will the son of Dhritarashtra repent for this war.  When he will behold the arrows shot by the enemy turned off, or turned back struck by my shafts, or cut to pieces pierced transversely by my arrows, then will the foolish son of Dhritarashtra repent for this war.  When broad-headed arrows shot by my hands will strike off the heads of youthful warriors, like birds picking off fruits from the tree-tops, then will the son of Dhritarashtra repent for this war.  When he will behold excellent warriors of his failing down from their cars, and elephants and steeds rolling on the field, deprived of life by my arrows, then will the son of Dhritarashtra repent for this war.  When he will behold his brothers, even before fairly coming within the range of the enemy’s weapons, die all around, without having achieved anything in battle, then will the son of Dhritarashtra repent for this war.  When pouring my blazing shafts incessantly, I will, like Death himself with mouth wide-open, destroy on all sides multitudes of cars and foot-soldiers, then will that wretch repent.  When he will behold his own troops, covered with the dust raised by my car wander in all directions, torn to pieces by Gandiva and reft of senses, then will that wretch repent.  When he will behold his whole army running away in fear in all directions, mangled in limbs, and bereft of senses; when he will behold his steeds, elephants, and foremost of heroes slain; when he will see his troops thirsty, struck with panic, wailing aloud, dead and dying, with their animals exhausted; and hair, bones and skulls lying in heaps around like half-wrought works of the Creator, then will that wretch repent.  When he will behold on my car, Gandiva, Vasudeva, and the celestial conch