Note 39 — SECTION I.

The following short extract from the translation of the Vichitra Nátac, will show that Góvind gave his friends their full meed of praise, and will also exhibit the character of his style: "Cripál rages, wielding his mace: he crushed the skull of the fierce Hyát Khán. He made the blood spurt aloft, and scattered the brains of the chief, as Crishna crushed the earthen vessel of butter. Then Nand Chand raged in dreadful ire, launching the spear, and wielding the sword. He broke his keen scimitar, and drew his dagger, to support the honour of the Sóndi race. Then my maternal uncle, Cripál, advanced in his rage, and exhibited the skilful war-feats of a true Cshatríya. The mighty warrior, though struck by an arrow, with another made a valiant Khán fall from his saddle, and Sáheb Chand, of the Cshatríya race, strove in the battle's fury, and slew a blood-thirsty Khán, a warrior of Khorásan." After recording the actions of many others, Góvind thus describes his own deeds: "The blood-drinking spectres and ghosts yelled for carnage; the fierce Vetála, the chief of the spectres, laughed for joy, and sternly prepared for his repast. The vultures hovered around, screaming for their prey. Hari Chand, (a Hindú chief in the emperor's army,) in his wrath, drawing his bow, first struck my steed with an arrow: aiming a second time, he discharged his arrow; but the Deity preserved me, and it passed me, and only grazed my ear. His third arrow struck my breast: it tore open the mail, and pierced the skin, leaving a slight scar; but the God whom I adore saved me. When I felt this hurt, my anger was kindled; I drew my bow and discharged an arrow: all my champions did the same, rushing onwards to the battle. Then I aimed at the young hero, and struck him. Hari Chand perished, and many of his host; death devoured him, who was called a Rájá among a hundred thousand Rájás. Then all the host, struck with consternation, fled, deserting the field of combat. I obtained the victory through the favour of the Most High; and, victorious in the field, we raised aloud the song of triumph. Riches fell on us like rain, and all our warriors were glad."