Bhagavad Gita: Chapter XI

ARJUNA:
        THIS, for my soul’s peace, have I heard from Thee,
        The unfolding of the Mystery Supreme
        Named Adhyatman; comprehending which,
        My darkness is dispelled; for now I know—
        O Lotus-eyed! —whence is the birth of men,
        And whence their death, and what the majesties
        Of thine immortal rule. Fain would I see,
        As thou Thyself declar’st it, Sovereign Lord!
        The likeness of that glory of Thy Form
        Wholly revealed. O Thou Divinest One!
        If this can be, if I may bear the sight,
        Make Thyself visible, Lord of all prayers!
        Show me Thy very self, the Eternal God!

KRISHNA:
Gaze, then, thou Son of Pritha ! I manifest for thee
Those hundred thousand thousand shapes that clothe my
        Mystery:
I show thee all my semblances, infinite, rich, divine,
My changeful hues, my countless forms. See! in this face
        of mine,
Adityas, Vasus, Rudras, Aswins, and Maruts; see
Wonders unnumbered, Indian Prince! revealed to none save
        thee.
Behold! this is the Universe!—Look! what is live and
        dead
I gather all in one-in Me! Gaze, as thy lips have said,
On GOD ETERNAL, VERY GOD! See ME! see what
        prayest!

    Thou  canst not!—nor, with human eyes, Arjuna! ever
        mayest!
Therefore I give thee sense divine. Have other eyes, new
        light!
And, look! This is My glory, unveiled to mortal sight!

SANJAYA:
        Then, O King! the God, so saying,
        Stood, to Pritha’s son displaying
        All the splendor, wonder, dread
        Of His vast Almighty-head.
        Out of countless eyes beholding,
        Out of countless mouths commanding,
        Countless mystic forms enfolding
        In one Form: supremely standing
        Countless radiant glories wearing,
        Countless heavenly weapons bearing,
        Crowned with garlands of star-clusters,
        Robed in garb of woven lustres,
        Breathing from His perfect Presence
        Breaths of all delicious essence
        Of all sweetest odors; shedding
        Blinding brilliance, overspreading—
        Boundless, beautiful—all spaces
        From His all—regarding faces;
        So He showed! If there should rise
        Suddenly within the skies
        Sunburst of a thousand suns
        Flooding earth with rays undeemed-of,
        Then might be that Holy One’s
        Majesty and glory dreamed of!

            So did Pandu’s Son behold
        All this universe enfold
        All its huge diversity
        Into one great shape, and be
        Visible, and viewed, and blended
        In one Body-subtle, splendid,
        Nameless—th’ All--Comprehending
        God of Gods, the Never-Ending
        Deity !
                  But, sore amazed,
        Thrilled, o’erfilled, dazzled, and dazed,
        Arjuna knelt, and bowed his head,
        And clasped his palms, and cried, and said:

ARJUNA:
        Yea! I have seen! I see!
        Lord! all is wrapped in Thee!
The gods are in Thy glorious frame! the creatures
        Of earth, and heaven, and hell
        In Thy Divine form dwell,
And in Thy countenance show all the features

        Of Brahma, sitting lone
        Upon His lotus-throne;
Of saints and sages, and the serpent races
        Ananta, Vasuki.
        Yea! mightiest Lord! I see
Thy thousand thousand arms, and breasts, and faces,

        And eyes,-on every side
        Perfect, diversified;
And nowhere end of Thee, nowhere beginning,
        Nowhere a centre !  Shifts 
        Wherever soul’s gaze lifts
Thy central Self, all-willing, and all-winning!

        Infinite King! I see
        The anadem on Thee,
The club, the shell, the discus; see Thee burning
        In beams insufferable, 
        Lighting earth, heaven, and hell
With brilliance blinding, glorious, flashing, turning

        Darkness to dazzling day,
        Look I whichever way.
Ah, Lord! I worship Thee, the Undivided,
        The Uttermost of thought, 
        The Treasure-Palace wrought
To hold the wealth of the worlds; the shield provided

        To shelter Virtue’s laws;
        The Fount whence Life’s stream draws
All waters of all rivers of all being:
        The One Unborn, Unending:
        Unchanging and unblending ! 
With might and majesty, past thought, past seeing!

        Silver of moon and gold
        Of sun are glances rolled
From Thy great eyes; Thy visage beaming tender
        Over the stars and skies,
        Doth to warm life surprise
Thy Universe. The worlds are filled with wonder

        Of Thy perfections ! Space
        Star-sprinkled, and the place
From pole to pole of the heavens, from bound to bound,
        Hath Thee in every spot,
        Thee, Thee !-Where Thou art not
O Holy, Marvellous Form! is nowhere found!

        O Mystic, Awful One!
        At sight of Thee, made known,
The Three Worlds quake; the lower gods draw nigh
            Thee;
        They fold their palms, and bow
        Body, and breast, and brow,
And, whispering worship, laud and magnify Thee!

        Rishis and Siddhas cry
        "Hail! Highest Majesty!"
From sage and singer breaks the hymn of glory
        In holy melody,
        Sounding the praise of Thee,
While countless companies take up the story,

        Rudras, who rides the storms,
        Th’ Adityas’ shining forms,
Vasus and Sadhyas, Viswas, Ushmapas,
        Maruts, and those great Twins,
        The heavenly, fair, Aswins,
Gandharvas, Rakshasas, Siddhas, Asuras,

        These see Thee, and revere
        In silence-stricken fear;
Yea! the Worlds,-seeing Thee with form stupendous
        With faces manifold,
        With eyes which all behold,
Unnumbered eyes, vast arms, members tremendous,

        Flanks, lit with sun and star,
        Feet planted near and far,
Tushes of terror, mouths wrathful and tender,—
        The Three wide Worlds before Thee
        Adore, as I adore Thee,
Quake, as I quake, to witness so much splendor!

        I mark Thee strike the skies
        With front in wondrous wise
Huge, rainbow-painted, glittering; and thy mouth
        Opened, and orbs which see
        All things, whatever be,
In all Thy worlds, east, west, and north and south.

        O Eyes of God ! O Head!
        My strength of soul is fled,
Gone is heart’s force, rebuked is mind’s desire!
        When I behold Thee so, 
        With awful brows a-glow,
With burning glance, and lips lighted with fire,

        Fierce as those flames which shall
        Consume, at close of all,
Earth, Heaven! Ah me! I see no Earth and Heaven!
        Thee, Lord of Lords! I see, 
        Thee only-only Thee!
Ah ! let Thy mercy unto me be given!

        Thou Refuge of the World!
        Lo! to the cavern hurled
Of Thy Wide-opened throat, and lips white-tusked,
        I see our noblest ones,
        Great Dhritarashtra’s sons,
Bhishma, Drona, and Karna, caught and crushed!

        The Kings and Chiefs drawn in,
        That gaping gorge within;
The best of all both armies torn and riven!
        Between Thy jaws they lie
        Mangled fell bloodily,
Ground into dust and death! Like streams down
            driven

        With helpless haste, which go
        In headlong furious flow
Straight to the gulfing maw of th’ unfilled ocean,
        So to that flaming cave
        These heroes great and brave
Pour, in unending streams, with helpless motion!

        Like moths which in the night
        Flutter towards a light,
Drawn to their fiery doom, flying and dying,
        So to their death still throng,
        Blind, dazzled, borne along
Ceaselessly, all these multitudes, wild flying!

        Thou, that hast fashioned men,
        Devourest them agen,
One with another, great and small, alike!
        The creatures whom Thou mak’st,
        With flaming jaws Thou tak’st,
Lapping them up! Lord God! Thy terrors strike

        From end to end of earth,
        Filling life full, from birth
To death, with deadly, burning, lurid dread!
        Ah, Vishnu! make me know
        Why is Thy visage so?
Who art Thou, feasting thus upon Thy dead?

        Who? awful Deity!
        I bow myself to Thee,
Namostu Te Devavara! Prasid!
         O Mightiest Lord! rehearse
        Why hast Thou face so fierce?
Whence did this aspect horrible proceed?

KRISHNA:
Thou seest Me as Time who kills, Time who brings all to
        doom,
The Slayer Time, Ancient of Days, come hither to consume;
Excepting thee, of all these hosts of hostile chiefs arrayed,
There shines not one shall leave alive the battlefield!
        Dismayed
No longer be! Arise! obtain renown! destroy thy foes!
Fight for the kingdom waiting thee when thou hast vanquished those.
By Me they fall—not thee! the stroke of death is dealt
        them now,
Even as they stand thus gallantly; My instrument art thou !
Strike, strong-armed Prince! at Drona! at Bhishma strike !
        deal death
To Karna, Jyadratha ; stay all this warlike breath!
‘Tis I who bid them perish! Thou wilt but slay the slain.
Fight! they must fall, and thou must live, victor upon this
        plain!

SANJAYA:
                Hearing mighty Keshav’s word,
                Tremblingly that helmed Lord
                Clasped his lifted palms, and—praying
                Grace of Krishna—stood there, saying,
                With bowed brow and accents broken,
                These words, timorously spoken:

ARJUNA:
        Worthily, Lord of Might!
        The whole world bath delight
In Thy surpassing power, obeying Thee;
        The Rakshasas, in dread
        At sight of Thee, are sped
To all four quarters; and the company

        Of Siddhas sound Thy name.
        How should they not proclaim
Thy Majesties, Divinest, Mightiest?
        Thou Brahm, than Brahma greater!
        Thou Infinite Creator!
Thou God of gods, Life’s Dwelling-place and Rest l

        Thou, of all souls the Soul!
        The Comprehending Whole!
Of Being formed, and formless Being the Framer;
        O Utmost One! O Lord!
        Older than eld, Who stored
The worlds with wealth of life. O Treasure-claimed.

        Who wottest all, and art
        Wisdom Thyself! O Part
In all, and all, for all from Thee have risen!
        Numberless now I see
        The aspects are of Thee!
Vayu Thou art, and He who keeps the prison

        Of Narak, Yama dark,
        And Agni’s shining spark.
V’aruna’s waves are Thy waves. Moon and star-light
        Are Thine! Prajapati
        Art Thou, and ‘tis to Thee
Men kneel in worshipping the old world’s far light,

        The first of mortal men.
        Again, Thou God! again
A thousand thousand times be magnified!
        Honor and worship be—
        Glory and praise,—to Thee!
Namo, Namaste, cried on every side.

        Cried here, above, below,
        Uttered when Thou dost go,
Uttered when Thou dost come! Namo ! we call.
         Namostu ! God adored!
         Namostu ! Nameless Lord!
Hail to Thee! Praise to Thee! Thou One in all.

        For Thou art All! Yea, Thou!
        Ah! if in anger now
Thou shouldst remember I did think Thee Friend,
        Speaking with easy speech, As men use each to each;
        Did call Thee "Krishna," " Prince," nor comprehend

        Thy hidden majesty, 
        The might, the awe of Thee;
Did, in my heedlessness, or in my love,
        On journey, or in jest,
        Or when we lay at rest,
Sitting at council, straying in the grove,

        Alone, or in the throng,
        Do Thee, most Holy wrong,
Be Thy grace granted for that witless sin!
        For Thou art now I know,
        Father of all below,
Of all above, of all the worlds within,

        Guru of Gurus, more
        To reverence and adore
Than all which is adorable and high!
        How, in the wide worlds three
        Should any equal be?
Shall any other share Thy majesty?

        Therefore, with body bent
        And reverent intent,
I praise, and serve, and seek Thee, asking grace.
        As father to a son,
        As friend to friend, as one
Who loveth to his lover, turn Thy face

        In gentleness on me!
        Good is it I did see
This unknown marvel of Thy Form! But fear
        Mingles with joy! Retake,
        Dear Lord! for pity’s sake
Thine earthly shape, which earthly eyes may bear!

        Be merciful, and show
        The visage that I know;
Let me regard Thee, as of yore, arrayed
        With disc and forehead-gem,
        With mace and anedem,
Thou who sustainest all things! Undismayed

        Let me once more behold
        The form I loved of old,
Thou of the thousand arms and countless eyes!
        My frightened heart is fain
        To see restored again
The Charioteer, my Krishna’s kind disguise.

KRISHNA:
Yea! thou halt seen, Arjuna! because I loved thee well,
The secret countenance of Me, revealed by mystic spell,
Shining, and wonderful, and vast, majestic, manifold,
Which none save thou in all the years had favor to
        behold:
For not by Vedas cometh this, nor sacrifice, nor alms,
Nor works well-done, nor penance long, nor prayers nor
        chaunted psalms,
That mortal eyes should bear to view the Immortal Soul
        unclad,
Prince of the Kurus! This was kept for thee alone! Be
        glad!
Let no more trouble shake thy heart because throe eyes have
        seen
My terror with My glory. As I before have been
So will I be again for thee; with lightened heart behold!
Once more I am thy Krishna, the form thou knew’st of
        old!

SANJAYA:
        These words to Arjuna spake
        Vasudev, and straight did take
        Back again the semblance dear
        Of the well-loved charioteer;
        Peace and joy it did restore
        When the Prince beheld once more
        Mighty BRAHMA’S form and face
        Clothed in Krishna’s gentle grace.

ARJUNA:
Now that I see come back, Janardana !
This friendly human frame, my mind can think
Calm thoughts once more; my heart beats still again!

KRISHNA:
Yea ! it was wonderful and terrible
To view me as thou didst, dear Prince! The gods
Dread and desire continually to view!
Yet not by Vedas, nor from sacrifice,
Nor penance, nor gift-giving, nor with prayer
Shall any so behold, as thou hast seen!
Only by fullest service, perfect faith,
And uttermost surrender am I known
And seen, and entered into, Indian Prince
Who doeth all for Me; who findeth Me
In all; adoreth always; loveth all
Which I have made, and Me, for Love’s sole end,
That man, Arjuna ! unto Me doth wend.

Here endeth Chapter XI of the Bhagavad-Gita, entitled "Viswarupdarsanam," or "The Book of the Manifesting of the One and Manifold"

From: Sacred Writings, Vol. II.  Volume 45 of the Harvard Classics.  Charles W. Eliot, ed.  Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold.  New York: Collier and Son, 1910, 846-856.