Book, Chapter

 1   1, 5|         fury, like a lion in his ire,~Like the sun in noontide
 2   2, 4|          all the suitors rose in ire,~Nobly born, of lofty presence,
 3   2, 8|           scaped his unrelenting ire!"~Krishna rose amidst the
 4   4, 3|         Bhima could not smite in ire,~Looked the painted form
 5   4, 3|          Bhima breaks not in his ire,~In the battle's red arena
 6   7, 5|        soon shall feed its fatal ire!~Stretch thy hands, O Kuru
 7   9, 3| to-morrow, victim to my vengeful ire,~Arjun else shall yield
 8  10, 2|         kindled fresh a father's ire!~And he drew his bow Gandiva,
 9  10, 4|       planned of old in fiendish ire,~In the halls of Varnavata
10  11, 5|        of that chief of deathful ire,~As a man in folds of garments