battle; who instantly broke or overturned the sacrificial columns, trampled upon
the altars, and danced amidst the oblations. Running wildly hither and thither,
with the speed of wind, they tossed about the implements and vessels of
sacrifice, which looked like stars precipitated from the heavens. The piles of
food and beverage for the gods, which had been heaped up like mountains;[26]
the rivers of milk; the tanks of curds and butter; the masses of honey, and butter-
milk, and sugar; the mounds of condiments and spices of every flavour; the
undulating knolls of flesh and other viands; the celestial liquors; pastes and
confections which had been prepared; these the spirits of wrath devoured, or
defiled, or scattered abroad. And, falling upon the host of the gods, these vast
and resistless Rudras beat or terrified them, mocked and insulted the nymphs and
goddesses, and quickly put an end to the rite, although defended by all the gods;
being the ministers of Rudra’s wrath, and similar to himself. Some then made a
hideous clamour, whilst others fearfully shouted, when Yajna was decapitated.
For the divine Yajna, the lord of sacrifice, began to fly up to heaven, in the shape
of a deer; and Virabhadra, of immeasurable spirit, apprehending his power, cut
off his vast head, after he had mounted into the sky.
Daksha, the patriarch, his sacrifice being destroyed, overcome with terror, and
utterly broken in spirit, fell prone upon the ground, where his head was spurned
by the feet of the cruel Virabhadra. The thirty scores of sacred divinities were all
presently bound, with a band of fire, by their lion-like foe; and they all addressed
him, crying: “O Rudra, have mercy upon thy servants! O lord, dismiss thine
anger!” This spake Brahma, and the other gods, and the patriarch Daksha; and,
raising their hands, they said: “Declare, mighty being, who thou art.”
Virabhadra said: “I am not a god, nor an Aditya, nor am I come hither for
enjoyment, nor curious to behold the chiefs of the divinities. Know that I am
come to destroy the sacrifice of Daksha, and that I am called Virabhadra, the
issue of the wrath of Rudra. Bhadrakali, also, who has sprung from the anger of
Devi, is sent here, by the god of gods, to destroy this rite. Take refuge, king of
kings, with him who is the lord of Uma. For better is the anger of Rudra than the
blessings of other gods.”
Having heard the words of Virabhadra, the righteous Daksha propitiated the
mighty god, the holder of the trident, Maheswara. The hearth of sacrifice,
deserted by the Brahmans, had been consumed; Yajna had been metamorphosed
to an antelope; the fires of Rudra’s wrath had been kindled; the attendants,
wounded by the tridents of the servants of the god, were groaning with pain; the
pieces of the uprooted sacrificial posts were scattered here and there; and the