HYMN XXXVIII. Maruts.
I. WHAT now? When will ye take us by both hands, as a dear sire his son,
Gods, for whom sacred grass is clipped?
2. Now whither? To what goal of yours go ye in heaven, and not on earth?
Where do your cows disport themselves?
3. Where are your newest favours shown? Where, Maruts, your prosperity?
Where all your high felicities?
4. If, O ye Maruts, ye the Sons whom Prsni bore, were mortal, and
Immortal he who sings your praise.
5. Then never were your praiser loathed like a wild beast in pasture-land,
Nor should he go on Yama’s path.
6. Let not destructive plague on plague hard to be conquered, strike its down:
Let each, with drought, depart from us.
7. Truly, they the fierce and mighty Sons of Rudra send their windless
Rain e’en on the desert places.
8. Like a cow the lightning lows and follows, motherlike, her youngling,
When their rain-flood hath been loosened.
9. When they inundate the earth they spread forth darkness e’en in day time,
With the water-laden rain-cloud.
10. O Maruts, at your voice’s sound this earthly habitation shakes,
And each man reels who dwells therein.
11. O Maruts, with your strong-hoofed steeds, unhindered in their courses, haste
Along the bright embanked streams.
12. Firm be the fellies of your wheels, steady your horses and your cars,
And may your reins be fashioned well.
13. Invite thou hither with this song, for praise, Agni the Lord of Prayer,
Him who is fair as Mitra is.
14. Form in thy mouth the hymn of praise expand thee like, a rainy cloud
Sing forth the measured eulogy.
15. Sing glory to the Marut host, praiseworthy, tuneful, vigorous:
Here let the Strong Ones dwell with us.
HYMN XXXIX Maruts.
1. WHEN thus, like flame, from far away, Maruts, ye cast your measure forth,
To whom go Ye, to whom, O shakers of the earth, moved by whose wisdom, whose design?
2. Strong let your weapons be to drive away your foes, firm for resistance let them be.
Yea, passing glorious must be your warrior might, not as a guileful mortal’s strength.
3. When what is strong ye overthrow, and whirl about each ponderous thing,
Heroes, your course is through the forest trees of earth, and through the fissures of the rocks.
4. Consumers of your foes, no enemy of yours is found in heaven or on the earth:
Ye Rudras, may the strength, held in this bond, be yours, to bid defiance even now.
5. They make the mountains rock and reel, they rend the forest-kings apart.
onward, ye Maruts, drive, like creatures drunk with wine, ye, Gods with all your company.
6. Ye to your chariot have yoked the spotted deer: a red deer, as a leader, draws.
Even the Earth herself listened as ye came near, and men were sorely terrified.
7. O Rudras, quickly we desire your succour for this work of ours.
Come to us with your aid as in the days of old, so now for frightened Kanva’s sake.
8. Should any monstrous foe, O Maruts, sent by you or sent by mortals threaten us,
Tear ye him from us with your power and with your might, and with the succours that are yours.
9. For ye, the worshipful and wise, have guarded Kanva perfectly.
O Maruts, come to us with full protecting help, as lightning flashes seek the rain.
10. Whole strength have ye, O Bounteous Ones; perfect, earth-shakers, is your might.
Maruts, against the poet’s wrathful enemy send ye an enemy like a dart.
HYMN XL. Brahmanaspati
1. O BRAMANASPATI, stand up: God-serving men we pray to thee.
May they who give good gifts, the Maruts, come to us. Indra, most swift, be thou with them.
2. O Son of Strength, each mortal calls to thee for aid when spoil of battle waits for him.
O Maruts, may this man who loves you well obtain wealth of good steeds and hero might.
3. May Brahmanaspati draw nigh, may Sunrta the Goddess come,
And Gods bring to this rite which gives the five-fold gift the Hero, lover of mankind.
4. He who bestows a noble guerdon on the priest wins fame that never shall decay.
For him we offer sacred hero-giving food, peerless and conquering easily.
5. Now Brahmanaspati speaks forth aloud the solemn hymn of praise,
Wherein Indra and Varuna, Mitra, Aryaman, the Gods, have made their dwelling place.
6. May we in holy synods, Gods! recite that hymn, peerless, that brings felicity.
If you, O Heroes, graciously accept this word, may it obtain all bliss from you.
7. Who shall approach the pious? who the man whose sacred grass is trimmed?
The offerer with his folk advances more and more: he fills his house with precious things.
8. He amplifies his lordly might, with kings he slays: e’en mid alarms he dwells secure
In great or lesser fight none checks him, none subdues,-the wielder of the thunderbolt.