At the expiration of the summer, like the rain-cloud, assisted by the strong gale, showering its contents, Drona, pouring streams of iron-tipped arrows, struck terror into the hearts of his enemies.
नानद्यमानः पर्जन्यः प्रवृद्धः शुचिसंक्षये। अश्मवर्षमिवावर्षत् परेषामावहद् भयम्॥