Countless jackals raise a terrible howl at night, and rakshasas often descend from the sky; deer, jackals and peacocks, crows, vultures and cranes, wolves and birds with golden plumage follow behind my chariot when my white horses are yoked to it. Alone, I can send all the warlike kings, in a shower of arrows, to the realms of death. As a blazing fire devours the forest in the hot season, so I, displaying my skill in every direction, will hurl that great weapon called Stura-karna, the Pashupata, and the Brahma weapon, and all those that Shakra gave me, every one of them endowed with fierce impetuosity. And with their help, seeking to destroy these kings, I will leave no trace of those who come out onto the field of battle. Having done all this, I will rest. This indeed is my chief and settled resolve. Tell them this, O son of Gavalgana. Behold the folly of Duryodhana! O Suta, they are unconquerable in battle, even if met with the help of those very gods headed by Indra — yet even against them the son of Dhritarashtra thinks to make war! But let it be as the aged Bhishma, son of Shantanu, and Kripa, and Drona with his son, and Vidura, endowed with great wisdom, say: 'May all the Kauravas live long!'