When the night had passed, a great clamor arose: the lords of the earth cried out, "Yoke them! Equip them!" The din of conches and drums, lion-roars, the neighing of horses, the rumble of chariot wheels, the trumpeting of elephants, the shouts of warriors, whistling, hand-claps, and cries merged from every side into a terrible uproar. At sunrise, O great king, the vast armies of your sons and of the Pandavas rose up, fully equipped in every part. There the elephants and chariots, adorned with the gold of the Jambu river, shone like clouds streaked with lightning; the ranks of chariots seemed like a multitude of cities. Your father shone there exceedingly, like the full moon. The warriors stood in their own ranks with gleaming weapons — bows, spears, swords, maces, shaktis, and tomaras. Elephants, chariots, foot soldiers, and horses, O lord of men, stood arrayed by the hundreds and thousands like hunting nets. Thousands of raised banners of our own forces and of the enemy shone in manifold forms: golden, adorned with gems, blazing like fires. The bright standards of kings, resplendent by the thousand like the banners of Indra in his own abodes, glittered aflame. Among them stood the armed heroes, eager for battle; the bull-eyed lords of men, with weapons raised, bracers and quivers, stood at the head of the armies.