Bibliotheca Polyglotta

1 SWIFT gain is his who hath you near at every rite: ye welcome every song of him who serves the Gods. So may I turn you hither with fair hymns of praise to give great succour for the weal of both the worlds.

vavrā́so ná yé suajā́ḥ svátavasa íṣaṃ súvar abhijā́yanta dhū́tayaḥ |
sahasríyāso apã́ṃ ná ūrmáya āsā́ gā́vo vándiyāso ná ukṣáṇaḥ ||

2 Surrounding, as it were, self-born, self-powerful, they spring to life the shakers-down of food and light; Like as the countess undulations of the floods, worthy of praise when near, like bullocks and like kine.

sómāso ná yé sutā́s tr̥ptáaṃśavo hr̥tsú pītā́so duváso ná ā́sate |
aíṣām áṃseṣu rambhíṇīva rārabhe hásteṣu khādíś ca kr̥tíś ca sáṃ dadhe ||

3 They who, like Somas with their well-grown stalks pressed out, imbibed within the heart, dwell there in friendly wise. Upon their shoulders rests as ’twere a warrior's spear and in their hand they hold a dagger and a ring.

áva sváyuktā divá ā́ vŕ̥thā yayur ámartiyāḥ káśayā codata tmánā |
areṇávas tuvijātā́ acucyavur dr̥̄ḷhā́ni+ cin marúto bhrā́jadr̥ṣṭayaḥ ||

4 Self-yoked they have descended lightly from the sky. With your own lash, Immortals, urge yourselves to speed. Unstained by dust the Maruts, mighty in their strength, have cast down e’en firm things, armed with their shining spears.

kó vo antár maruta r̥ṣṭividyuto réjati tmánā hánuveva jihváyā |
dhanuacyúta iṣã́ṃ ná yā́mani purupraíṣā ahaníyo ná étaśaḥ ||

5 Who among you, O Maruts armed with lightning-spears, moveth you by himself, as with the tongue his jaws? Ye rush from heaven's floor as though ye sought for food, on many errands like the Sun's diurnal Steed.

kúva svid asyá rájaso mahás páraṃ kuvā́varam maruto yásmin āyayá |
yác cyāváyatha vithuréva sáṃhitaṃ ví ádriṇā patatha tveṣám arṇavám ||

6 Say where, then, is this mighty region's farthest bound, where, Maruts, is the lowest depth that ye have reached, When ye cast down like chaff the firmly stablished pile, and from the mountain send the glittering water-flood?

sātír ná vo ámavatī súvarvatī tveṣā́ vípākā marutaḥ pípiṣvatī |
bhadrā́ vo rātíḥ pr̥ṇató ná dákṣiṇā pr̥thujráyī asuríyeva jáñjatī ||

7 Your winning is with strength, dazzling, with heavenly light, with fruit mature, O Maruts, fall of plenteousness. Auspicious is your gift like a free giver's meed, victorious, spreading far, as of immortal Gods.

práti ṣṭobhanti síndhavaḥ pavíbhyo yád abhríyāṃ vā́cam udīráyanti |
áva smayanta vidyútaḥ pr̥thivyā́ṃ yádī ghr̥tám marútaḥ pruṣṇuvánti ||

8 The rivers roar before your chariot fellies when they are uttering the voice of rain-clouds. The lightnings laugh upon the earth beneath them, what time the Maruts scatter forth their fatness.

ásūta pŕ̥śnir mahaté ráṇāya tveṣám ayā́sām marútām ánīkam |
té sapsarā́so 'janayanta ábhvam ā́d ít svadhā́m iṣirā́m páry apaśyan ||

9 Pṛśni brought forth, to fight the mighty battle, the glittering army of the restless Maruts. Nurtured together they begat the monster, and then looked round them for the food that strengthens.

eṣá va stómo maruta iyáṃ gī́r māndāriyásya māniyásya kāróḥ |
ā́ iṣā́ yāsīṣṭa tanúve vayā́ṃ vidyā́meṣáṃ vr̥jánaṃ jīrádānum ||

10 May this your laud, may this your song O Maruts, sung by the poet Māna's son, Māndārya, Bring offspring for ourselves with food to feed us. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.

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