The Political Institutions and Theories of the Hindus: A Study in Comparative Politics c15.s4.17

c15.s4.17

"Let the soldier, good in battle, never guilefully conceal,
(Wherewithal to smite the unwary) in his staff the treacherous
steel;
Let him scorn to barb his javelin — let the valiant never anoint
With fell poison-juice 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 whom his long hair loosen'd blinds and hinders from to fly,
Spare him if he sink exhausted; spare him if he for life crave:
Spare him crying out for mercy, 'Take me for I am thy slave'.
Still remembering his duty, never let the soldier smite
One unarm'd, defenceless, mourning for one fallen in the flight;
Never strike the sadly wounded — never let the brave attack
One by sudden terror smitten, turning in base flight his back."