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Fearlessness, singleness of soul, the will Always to strive for wisdom; opened hand And governed appetites; and piety, And love of lonely study; humbleness, Uprightness, heed to injure nought which lives, Truthfulness, slowness unto wrath, a mind That lightly letteth go what others prize; And equanimity, and charity Which spieth no man's faults; and tenderness Towards all that suffer; a contented heart, Fluttered by no desires; a bearing mild, Modest, and grave, with manhood nobly mixed, With patience, fortitude, and purity; An unrevengeful spirit, never given To rate itself too high — such be the signs, O Indian Prince! of him whose feet are set On that fair path which leads to heavenly birth!

Deceitfulness, and arrogance, and pride, Excess of anger, harshness, ignorance — These be the signs, O Partha! of a soul Born unto demoniacal heritage.

The heritage divine is counted blessed; The demoniacal, for bondage made. But fear thou not, O Pandava! for thou Art born with portion of the blessed ones. Two orders live in this world. Of the first I spake to thee: the godly. Now hear me Tell of the second, the ungodly kind.

The demoniacal know not what to do Nor what to shun; there is no truth in them, Nor purity, nor rule of right conduct. "This universe," they say, "hath not a Lord, Nor Truth, nor Order; it is brought about By mutual union, born of lust alone, With no cause else." In this dark creed abiding, Souls of small wit, of cruel deeds — these spring To life as enemies of all the world, Bent upon its ruin, not its good.

Given to insatiable desire, possessed With vanity, conceit, and arrogance, Holding fast to many an ill belief Through dark delusion, working always foul, They make their purpose firm by evil vows. Surrounded with unmeasured anxious care Ending with death — cherishing boundless hopes, With anger and desire as their chain, They seek, by unjust gain, vast heaps of wealth To feed their greed-born lusts.

"This have I won today; this wish I gain; This gold is mine, and more I shall have yet. That enemy I slew, and more I slay. I am a lord; I am possessor; I Am happy, mighty, rich, well-born! Who else Can equal me? I sacrifice! I give! I spend!" — so sayeth Ignorance, befooled. Perplex'd in tangled nets of thought, surrendered To appetite and lust, they fall to foul Abodes of torment, these deluded ones!

Puffed up with self-conceit, stubborn and proud, Drunk with the pride of wealth, they sacrifice In name alone, by no rules governed, vainly. Given wholly to the Self, to violence, To pride, to lust, to wrath, these haters scorn Me dwelling in their bodies and in all. These, the lowest of mankind, these cruel Haters, vilest among mortals, these I hurl perpetually to darkness down In births of demoniacal wombs and forms.

Born into demoniacal wombs, darkened Birth on birth, they come not ever unto Me, O Kunti's Son! but tread the downward way. Three are the gates of that dark hell which slay The soul — the gates of Lust, and Wrath, and Greed. Therefore let each forsake these three! for he Who winneth past them maketh his soul's peace And comes to Me at last. But he who casts The law aside to live as liketh him, Gains neither happiness nor the higher road Nor Me.

Therefore let Scripture be thy rule and guide To know what should be done and what avoided. Learning the law of Scripture, do thy works Accordingly within this world, O Prince!