In that exceedingly dreadful clash of the two armies, as the ranks rushed swiftly together, the earth trembled. Those formations locked with formations, O Bharata: your warriors and the enemy, seeing Shantanava in the fight, hurled themselves at one another. Then, as they strained and rushed upon each other, a great noise arose in every direction, O Bharata. From the sounds of conches and drums, the trumpeting of elephants, and the lion-roars of the armies, it grew terrible. The splendor of all the kings, like the moon and sun, grew dim upon the armlets and crowns of the heroes. Clouds of dust rose up, shot through with the lightning-flashes of weapons, and the roar of bows became dreadful. The whistle of arrows, the sound of conches, the mighty beat of the bheris, and the rumble of chariots merged together in both armies. The sky above the hosts seemed to lose its light, filled as it was with masses of prasas, shaktis, and rishtis, and with streams of arrows. Charioteers hurled themselves upon one another, and horses clashed in the great battle; elephants struck elephants, and footmen struck footmen. This was the great battle of the Kurus with the Pandavas over Bhishma, O tiger among men, like the fight of two hawks over their prey. Their dreadful encounter took place in the battle, O Bharata, both sides thirsting for each other's death, each desiring victory on the field.