These noble sons of
Sindhu are like grinding-stones, they are always like Soma-stones,
tearing everything to pieces; these sons of a good mother are like
playful children, they are by their glare like a great troop on its
march. Illumining the sacrifice like the rays of the dawn, they shone
forth in their ornaments like triumphant warriors; the Maruts with
bright spears seem like running rivers, from afar they measure many
miles. O gods, make us happy and rich, prospering us, your praisers, O
Maruts! Remember our praise and our friendship, for from of old there
are always with you gifts of treasures.
XVIII
O Indra, a thousand have been thy helps accorded to us, a thousand, O
driver of the bays, have been thy most delightful viands. May thousands
of treasures richly to enjoy, may goods come to us a thousandfold. May
the Maruts come towards us with their aids, the mighty ones, or with
their best aids from the great heaven, now that their furthest steeds
have rushed forth on the distant shore of the sea; there clings to the
Maruts one who moves in secret, like a man's wife,[2] and who is like a
spear carried behind, well grasped, resplendent, gold-adorned; there is
also with them Vak,[3] like unto a courtly, eloquent woman. Far away the
brilliant, untiring Maruts cling to their young maid, as if she belonged
to them all; but the terrible ones did not drive away Rodasi, for they
wished her to grow their friend.
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