The Marathas deploying for action in the dim winter dawn: the Vazir, in full armour; whither do you fly?’: the choking dust: the combatants rolling on the ground, locked in a deadly embrace: the cries of ‘Din! Din!’ and ‘Har, Har, Mahadev!’ and lastly, the dramatic annihilation of one the most splendid and gallant armies that ever took the field. A defeat is, under some circumstances, as honorable as a victory; and never, in all their annals, did the Maratha armies cover themselves with greater glory, than when the flower of the chivalry of the Deccan perished on the stricken field of Panipat, fighting against the enemies of their creed and country.