The smaller often slays the great
By showing energy and vigor:
The lion kills the elephant,
And rules with unrestricted rigor.
And more than that:
Foes indestructible by might
Are slain through some deceptive gesture.
As Bhima strangled Kichaka,
Approaching him in woman's vesture.
And yet again:
When kings are merciless as death,
All foes are quick to knuckle under;
Quick, too, to kill the kings who fall
Into compassion's fatal blunder.
And he whose sun of glory sets
Before the glory of another
Is born in vain; he wastes for naught
The youthful vigor of his mother.
For Regal Splendor, unbesmeared
With foemen's blood as rich cosmetic,
Though dear, is insufficient for
Ambitions truly energetic.
And in a kingdom unbedewed
With foemen's blood in slaughter gory,
And hostile women's falling tears,
The king enjoys no living glory."
Having heard this view, the king put the question to Live-Along: "My worthy sir, pray express your opinion also." And Live-Along said: "O King, the enemy is vicious and powerful and unscrupulous.
