The
Maruts, who are fleet like racers, the manly youths, shone like Yakshas;
they are beautiful like boys standing round the hearth, they play about
like calves who are still sucking. May the bounteous Maruts be gracious
to us, opening up to us the firm heaven and earth. May that bolt of
yours which kills cattle and men be far from us! Incline to us, O Vasus,
with your favors. The Hotri priest calls on you again and again, sitting
down and praising your common gift, O Maruts. O strong ones, he who is
the guardian of so much wealth, he calls on you with praises, free from
guile. These Maruts stop the swift, they bend strength by strength, they
ward off the curse of the plotter, and turn their heavy hatred on the
enemy. These Maruts stir up even the sluggard, even the vagrant, as the
gods pleased. O strong ones, drive away the darkness, and grant us all
our kith and kin. May we not fall away from your bounty, O Maruts, may
we not stay behind, O charioteers, in the distribution of your gifts.
Let us share in the brilliant wealth, the well-acquired, that belongs to
you, O strong ones. When valiant men fiercely fight together, for
rivers, plants, and houses, then, O Maruts, sons of Rudra, be in battles
our protectors from the enemy. O Maruts, you have valued the praises
which our fathers have formerly recited to you; with the Maruts the
victor is terrible in battle, with the Maruts alone the racer wins the
prize.
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