War in Ancient India c5.s5.13

c5.s5.13

(Wherewithal to smite the unwary) in his staff the treacherous steel:
Let him scorn to bark his javelin: let the valiant never anoint
With full poison pierce his arrows, never put fire upon the point,
In his car or on his war-horse, should he chance his foe to meet,
Let him smite not, if he find him lighted down upon his feet:
Let him spare one standing suppliant, with his closed hands raised on high,
Spare him if he sink exhausted, spare him if for life he crave,
Spare him crying out for mercy, ‘ take me for I am thine slave ’
Still remembering his duty, never let the soldier smite
One unarmed, defenceless, mourning for one fallen in the fight:
Never strike the sadly wounded: never let the brave attack
One by sudden terror smitten, turning in base fight his back.’