thee, O scorcher of foes.  Indeed, he cometh for his own destruction, even like an insect into the mouth of a lamp.  Wrathful and brave, he is ever engaged in the good of Dhritarashtra’s son.  Of wicked understanding, he is always unable to put up with thee.  Beholding Karna alone and unsupported, Dhritarashtra’s son, O Bharata, turneth towards him with great resolution, accompanied by his car-force, for protecting him.  Let that wicked-souled one, along with all those allies of his, be slain by thee, putting forth thy vigour, from desire of winning fame, kingdom and happiness.  Both of you are endued with great strength.  Both of you are possessed of great celebrity.  When encountering each other in battle, O Partha, like a celestial and a Danava in the great battle between the gods and the Asuras, let all the Kauravas behold thy prowess.  Beholding thee filled with great rage and Karna also excited to fury, O bull of Bharata’s race, Duryodhana in wrath will not be able to do anything.  Remembering thyself to be of purified soul, O bull of Bharata’s race, and remembering also that the son of Radha harboureth a great animosity for the virtuous Yudhishthira, achieve that, O son of Kunti, which should now be achieved.  Righteously setting thy heart on battle, advance against that leader of car-warriors.  There, five hundred foremost of car-warriors, O thou best of car-warriors, that are endued with great might and fierce energy, and 5,000 elephants, and twice as many horses, and innumerable foot-soldiers, all united together, O son of Kunti, and protecting one another, O hero, are advancing against thee.  Show thyself, of thy own will, unto that great bowman, viz., the Suta’s son.  Advance, O bull of Bharata’s race, towards him with great speed.  There, Karna, filled with great wrath is rushing against the Pancalas.  I see his standard approaching towards the car of Dhrishtadyumna.  I think he will exterminate the Pancalas.  I will tell thee, O bull of Bharata’s race, some good news, O Partha.  King Yudhishthira the just is living.  There, the mighty-armed Bhima, having returned, is stationed at the head of the army, supported by the Srinjayas and by Satyaki, O Bharata.  There, the Kauravas are being slaughtered with keen shafts by Bhimasena, O son of Kunti, and the high-souled Pancalas.  The troops of Dhritarashtra’s son, with their faces turned from the field, and with blood streaming down from their wounds, are speedily flying away from battle, struck by Bhima with his shafts.  Bathed in blood, the Bharata army, O chief of Bharata’s race, presents an exceedingly cheerless aspect like that of the Earth when divested of crops.  Behold, O son of Kunti, Bhimasena, that foremost of combatants, filled with rage like a snake of virulent poison, and engaged in routing the (Kaurava) host.  Yellow and red and black and white banners, adorned with stars and moons and suns as also many umbrellas, O Arjuna, lie scattered about.  Made of gold or silver or brass and other metals, standards are lying