HYMN LXXIX. Soma Pavamana.
1. SPONTANEOUS let our drops of Soma juice flow on, pressed, golden-hued, among the Gods of lofty heaven.
Perish among us they who give no gifts of food! perish the godless! May our prayers obtain success.
2. Forward to us the drops, distilling meath, shall flow, like riches for whose sake we urge the horses on.
Beyond the crafty hindering of all mortal men may we continually bear precious wealth away.
3. Yea, yerily, foe of hate shown to himself is he, yea, verity, destroyer too of other hate.
As thirst subdueth in the desert, conquer thou, O Soma Pavarnana, men of evil thoughts.
4. Near kin to thee is he, raised loftiest in the heavens: upon the earth’s high ridge thy scions have grown forth.
The press-stones chew and crunch thee on the ox’s hide: sages have milked thee with their hands into the streams.
5. So do they hurry on thy strong and beauteous juice, O Indu, as the first ingredient of the draught.
Bring low, thou Pavamana, every single foe, and be thy might shown forth as sweet and gladdening drink.
HYMN LXXX. Soma Pavamana.
1. ON flows the stream of Soma who beholds mankind: by everlasting Law he calls the Gods from heaven.
He lightens with the roaring of Br aspati: h the lakes have not contained the pourings of juice.
2. Thou, powerful Soma, thou to whom the cows have -lowed, ascendest bright with sheen, thine iron-fashioned home.
Thou, lengthening our princes’ life and high renown, flowest for Indra as his might to gladdening drink.
3. Best giver of delight, he flows to Indra’s throat, robing himself in might, Auspicious One, for fame.
He spreads himself abroad to meet all things that be: the vigorous Tawny Steed flows sporting on his way.
4. The men, the ten swift fingers, milk thee out for Gods, even thee most rich in meath, with thousand flowing streams.
Soma who winnest thousands, driven by the men, expressed with stones, bring, as thou flowest, all the Gods.
5. Deft-handed men with stones, the ten swift fingers, drain thee into waters, thee, the Steer enriched with sweets.
Thou, Soma, gladdening Indra, and the Heavenly Host, flowest as Pavamana like a river’s wave.
HYMN LXXXI. Soma Pavamana.
1. ONWARD to Indra’s throat move, beauteously adorned, the waves of Soma as he purifies himself,
When they, brought forward with the lovely curd of kine, effused, have cheered the Hero to bestow his gifts.
2. Hither hath Soma flowed unto the beakers, like a chariot-horse, a stallion swift upon his way.
Thus, knowing both the generations, he obtains the rights and dues of Gods from yonder and from hence.
3. While thou art cleansed, O Soma, scatter wealth on us; Indu, bestow great bounty as a liberal Prince.
Giver of life, with wisdom help to opulence; strew not our home possessions far away from us.
4. Hither let Pusan Pavamana come to us, Varuna, Mitra, bountiful, of one accord,
The Maruts, Asvins, Vayu, and Brhaspati, Savitar, Tvastar, tractable Sarasvati.
5. Both Heaven and Earth, the all-invigorating Pair, Vidhatar, Aditi, and Aryaman the God,
Bhaga who blesses men, the spacious Firmament,-let all the Gods in Pavamana take delight.
HYMN LXXXII. Soma Pavamana.
1. EVEN as a King hath Soma, red and tawny Bull, been pressed: the Wondrous One hath bellowed to the kine.
While purified he passes through the filtering fleece to seat him hawk-like on the place that drops with oil.
2. To glory goest thou, Sage with disposing skill, like a groomed steed thou rusbest forward to the prize.
O Soma, be thou gracious, driving off distress: thou goest, clothed in butter, to a robe of state.
3. Parjanya is the Father of the Mighty Bird: on mountains, in earth’s centre hath he made his home.
The waters too have flowed, the Sisters, to the kine: he meets the pressing-stones at the beloved rite.
4. Thou givest pleasure as a wife delights her lord. Listen, O Child of Pajri, for to thee I speak.
Amid the holy songs go on that we may live: in time of trouble, Soma, watch thou free from blame.
5. As to the men of old thou camest, Indu unharmed, to strengthen, winning hundreds, thousands,
So now for new felicity flow onward: the waters follow as thy law ordaineth.
HYMN LXXXIII. Soma Pavamana.
1. SPREAD is thy cleansing filter, Brahmanaspati: as Prince, thou enterest its limbs from every side.
The raw, whose mass hath not been heated gains not this: they only which are dressed, which bear, attain to it.
2. High in the seat of heaven is spread the Scorcher’s sieve: its threads are standing separate, glittering with light.
The Swift Ones favour him who purifieth this: with consciousness they stand upon the height of heaven.
3. The foremost spotted Steer hath made the Mornings shine, and yearning after strength sustains all things that be.
By his high wisdom have the mighty Sages wrought: the Fathers who behold mankind laid down the germ,
4. Gandharva verily protects his dwellingplace; Wondrous, he guards the generations of the Gods.
Lord of the snare, he takes the foeman with the snare: those who are most devout have gained a share of meath.
5. Rich in oblations! robed in cloud, thou corapassest oblation, sacrifice, the mighty seat of Gods.
King, on thy chariot-sieve thou goest up to war, and with a thousand weapons winnest lofty fame.
HYMN LXXXIV. Soma Pavamana.
1. FLOW, cheering Gods, most active, winner of the flood, for Indra, and for Vayu, and for Varuna.
Bestow on us to-day wide room with happiness, and in tbine ample dwelling laud the Host of Heaven.
2. He who hath come anear to creatures that have life, Immortal Soma flows onward to all of them.
Effecting, for our aid, both union and release, Indu, like Surya, follows closely after Dawn.
3. He who is poured with milk, he who within the plants hastes bringing treasure for the happiness of Gods,
He, poured forth in a stream flows with the lightning’s flash, Soma who gladdens Indra and the Host of Heaven.
4. Winner of thousands, he, this Soma, flows along, raising a vigorous voice that wakens with the dawn.
Indu with winds drives on the ocean of the air, he sinks within the jars, he rests in Indra’s heart.
5. The kine with milk dress him who makes the milk increase, Soma, amid the songs, who finds the light of heaven.
Winner of wealth, the effectual juice is flowing on, Singer and Sage by wisdom, dear as heaven itself.
HYMN LXXXV. Soma Pavamana.
I. FLOW on to Indra, Soma, carefully effused: let sickness stay afar together with the fiends.
Let not the double-tongued delight them with thy juice. here be thy flowing drops laden with opulence.
2. O Pavamana, urge us forward in the fight thou art the vigour of the Gods, the well-loved drink.
Smite thou our enemies who raise the shout of joy: Indra, drink Soma juice, and drive away our foes.
3. Unharmed, best Cheerer, thou, O Indu, flowest on: thou, even thou thyself, art Indra’s noblest food.
Full many a wise man lifts to thee the song of praise, and hails thee with a kiss as Sovran of this world.
4. Wondrous, with hundred streams, hymned in a thousand songs, Indu pours out for Indra his delightrul meath.
Winning us land and waters, flow thou hitherward: Rainer of bounties, Soma, make broad way for us.
5. Roaring within the beaker thou art balmed with milk: thou passest through the fleecy filter all at once.
Carefully cleansed and decked like a prizewinning steed, O Soma, thou hast flowed down within Indra’s throat.
6. Flow onward sweet of flavour for the Heavenly Race, for Indra sweet, whose name is easily invoked:
Flow sweet for Mitra, Varuna, and Vayu, rich in meath, inviolable for Brhaspati.
7. Ten rapid fingers deck the Courser in the jar: with hymns the holy singers send their voices forth.
The filtering juices hasten to their eulogy, the drops that gladden find their way to Indra’s heart.
8. While thou art purified pour on us hero strength, great, far-extended shelter, spacious pasturage.
Let no oppression master this our holy work: may we, O Indu, gain all opulence through thee.
9. The Steer who sees afar hath risen above the sky: the Sage hath caused the lights of heaven to give their shine.
The. King is passing through the filter with a roar: they drain the milk of heaven from him who looks on men.
10. High in the vault of heaven, unceasing, honey-tongued, the Loving Ones drain out the mountain-haunting Steer,-
The drop that hath grown great in waters, in the lake meath-rich, in the stream’s wave and in the cleansing sieve.
11. The Loving Ones besought with many voices the Eagle who had flown away to heaven.
Hymns kiss the Youngling worthy of laudation, resting on earth, the Bird of golden colour.
12. High to heaven’s vault hath the Gandharva risen, beholding all his varied forms and figures.
His ray hath shone abroad with gleaming splendour: pure, he hath lighted both the worlds, the Parents.
