Aurangzíb towered high above a seething scrimmage of Rájputs. But where was Dárá?
It was as though the sun had vanished in mid heaven. Dárá is dead, cried one; we are betrayed, said another: Aurangzíb will have vengeance, thought all. A blind panic seized upon the all but victorious army, and every man fled for dear life. Once a panic has got hold of an Indian army, no power can save or check it. Like a river which has burst its banks, it pours over the land, and none may dam or guide its widening waves. In a brief moment the tide had turned, and the all but vanquished became the victors. For a terrible quarter of an hour Aurangzíb had steadily maintained his seat on his besieged elephant, and his reward was the Peacock-Throne. A little too soon Dárá had dismounted, to be 'numbered among the most miserable of Princes,' a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth. The unlucky Prince, 'prizing life more than the hope of a crown,' turned and fled. A few of his once superb host followed him to Agra. Then, and not till then, did Aurangzíb descend from his elephant, and prostrating himself on the bloody field offered thanks to God for this great and glorious victory.
'Nothing succeeds like success.' The battle of Samúgarh was the signal for all the world to come and tender their homage to Aurangzíb, who remained for some days on the field of his triumph, busily engaged night and day in negotiating with his father's Amírs. They required little inducement to come over
