1 COME, be thou Mitra, Varuṇa, or Pūṣan, come, O Bṛhaspati, to mine oblation: With Maruts, Vasus, or Ādityas, make thou Parjanya pour for Santanu his rain-drops.
2 The God, intelligent, the speedy envoy whom thou hast sent hath come to me, Devapi: Address thyself to me and turn thee hither within thy lips will I put brilliant language.
3 Within my mouth, Bṛhaspati, deposit speech lucid, vigorous, and free from weakness, Thereby to win for Santanu the rain-fall. The meath-rich drop from heaven hath passed within it.
ā́ no drapsā́ mádhumanto viśantu índra dehi ádhirathaṃ sahásram | ní ṣīda hotrám r̥tuthā́ yajasva devā́n devāpe havíṣā saparya ||
4 Let the sweet drops descend on us, O Indra: give us enough to lade a thousand wagons. Sit to thy Hotar task; pay worship duly, and serve the Gods, Devapi, with oblation.
5 Knowing the God's good-will, Devapi, Ṛṣi, the son of Rstisena, sate as Hotar. He hath brought down from heaven's most lofty summit the ocean of the rain, celestial waters.
6 Gathered together in that highest ocean, the waters stood by deities obstructed. They burried down set free by Arstisena, in gaping clefts, urged onward by Devapi.
7 When as chief priest for Santanu, Devapi, chosen for Hotar's duty, prayed beseeching, Graciously pleased Bṛhaspati vouchsafed him a voice that reached the Gods and won the waters.
8 O Agni whom Devapi Arstisena, the mortal man, hath kindled in his glory, Joying in him with all the Gods together, urge on the sender of the rain, Parjanya.
9 All ancient Ṛṣis with their songs approached thee, even thee, O Much-invoked, at sacrifices. We have provided wagon-loads in thousands: come to the solemn rite, Lord of Red Horses.
10 The wagon-loads, the nine-and-ninety thousand, these have been offered up to thee, O Agni. Hero, with these increase thy many bodies, and, stimulated, send us rain from heaven.
11 Give thou these ninety thousand loads, O Agni, to Indra, to the Bull, to be his portion. Knowing the paths which Deities duly travel, set mid the Gods in heaven Aulana also.
12 O Agni, drive afar our foes, our troubles chase malady away and wicked demons. From this air-ocean, from the lofty heavens, send down on us a mighty flood of waters.
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Maṇḍala I