O Maruts,
Ribhukshans, come hither on your flaming strong fellies, O Rudras, come
to us to-day with food, you much-desired ones, come to the sacrifice,
you friends of the Sobharis. For we know indeed the terrible strength of
the sons of Rudra, of the vigorous Maruts, the liberal givers of rain.
The clouds were scattered, but the monster remained, heaven and earth
were joined together. O you who are armed with bright rings, the tracts
of the sky expanded, whenever you stir, radiant with your own splendor.
Even things that cannot be thrown down resound at your race, the
mountains, the lord of the forest--the earth quivers on your marches.
The upper sky makes wide room, to let your violence pass, O Maruts, when
these strong-armed heroes display their energies in their own bodies.
According to their wont these men, exceeding terrible, impetuous, with
strong and unbending forms, bring with them beautiful light. The arrow
of the Sobharis is shot from the bowstrings at the golden chest on the
chariot of the Maruts. They, the kindred of the cow, the well-born,
should enjoy their food, the great ones should help us. Bring forward, O
strongly-anointed priests, your libations to the strong host of the
Maruts, the strongly advancing. O Maruts, O heroes, come quickly hither,
like winged hawks, on your chariot with strong horses, of strong shape,
with strong naves, to enjoy our libations.
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