Heaven and earth themselves form my armor, sheltering me on all sides, while the sun blazes as my radiant shield. Indra, the mighty, and Agni, the purifier, stand as my guardians, and I call upon Dhātṛ to establish this armor firmly around me. Let the fierce and abundant armor of Indra and Agni, which even the gods cannot pierce, protect my body everywhere. May it grant me long life and vigor, as it always has for those under its shelter. May the divine gem of the gods, shining with celestial light, keep us safe from harm. Come, gods, and approach this woman together, bestowing upon her the threefold protection of body, strength, and spirit. Indra, plant manliness and courage in this one; all you gods, gather for her well-being. May she live a long and full life—a hundred autumns—growing old with her teeth intact, blessed with years and vitality. O mother, whatever you have wiped away from the newborn—the marks and signs of birth—let no evil name cling to those places, not from the birth slime nor from the afterbirth. Straw, chaff, husk, sticky residue, membranes, coverings, wrinkled skin, the neck of the placenta, and the one who closes the eyes—let none of these surround you or approach you. Let them not touch your thighs or come between. I prepare for her a remedy, a charm to drive away all evil names. Both evil and good names that others may try to attach, we drive away the hostile ones. Let the good name remain for those who seek a husband, and may ill names be banished. Whoever is black, hairy, a demon, a stump-dweller, or has a beak-like nose—these enemies, by her womanhood and her speech, we drive away. Those who sniff, who touch, who eat flesh, or who lick; the hostile ones—barking, yellow, toothless—we banish them from her presence. Whoever lies with you in dreams, whether as a brother or as a father, let this charm endure against them, even against the impotent and the crested ones. Whoever pursues you in sleep, or desires you while you are awake—may the sun, moving all around, drive them away like a fleeting shadow. Whoever would make this woman like one bereaved of her child, or like a widow—O sacred herb, destroy that darkness, that withered, lifeless state within her. Those who dance around the house in the evening, braying like donkeys; the hunchbacked, pot-bellied, crooked, dark, or lean—O herb, with your fragrance, destroy those who bring disease. The hunchbacked, the crooked, those in torn garments, who dance about like impotent men, making noise in the forest—we drive them away from here. Those who cannot bear the sun’s light, the hostile ones who dwell in goat-skins, foul-smelling, red-mouthed, and fly-like—we banish them. Those who carry excessive flesh, who strike at women’s loins—O Indra, destroy those demons. Those who, like the former ones, go about with horns in their hands, dwell in refuse, laugh loudly, or make light in the stumps—we drive them away from here. Those with feet behind and heels in front, faces forward; the bald, the smoke-born, the swollen, the muttering, the pot-bellied, the iron-testicled, the gluttonous—O Brahmanaspati, destroy them with your awareness for her sake. Let those with drooping eyes, the crippled, the impotent, be rendered powerless. O remedy, cast down all who would separate this woman from her true husband. Strike down whoever rises up against her—the wild-haired ascetic, the yawning, those who touch impurities, who approach the fig tree, the tufted or crested birds; strike the vessel with your foot, as a cow kicks the milk-pail. Whoever would harm or destroy your embryo, whether already formed or just conceived, may the tawny, fierce-bowed one strike him with a blow to the heart. Those who kill the unborn, who lurk around the birthing woman, who seize the portions meant for women—the tawny Gandharvas—may the wind drive them away like clouds. Let what is scattered be gathered together, and may what is beneficial not fall away. May the fierce twin healers guard your embryo. From the one with a broken penis, from the one with a mutilated head, from the naked—may the tawny Kimīdin protect you, for the sake of offspring and your husband. From the two-mouthed, the four-eyed, the five-footed, the fingerless; from the one creeping forth from the stalk—protect her from all who encircle. Those who eat raw flesh, who devour human meat, those hairy ones who consume embryos—we drive them away from here. Those who creep forth from the sun, as a daughter-in-law from her father-in-law’s house—may the noose and the tawny one pierce their hearts. Tawny one, protect the one being born; do not turn the woman into a man, do not crush embryos in the egg—repel these Kimīdins. Let barrenness, the evil of spring, and the curse of the ancestors not seize us. As one removes a garland from a tree, so release us from all that is not dear. We call upon all the herbs—the brown, the bright, the red, the speckled, the black, and the dark. May these herbs, whose father is the sky, whose mother is the earth, whose root is the ocean, protect this man from diseases sent by the gods. The waters, the foremost, the divine herbs—may they drive disease from your limbs, from every part of you. I call upon the spreading, the restraining, the single-spiked, the expanding herbs; the radiant, the thorny, the many-branched—come, mighty universal plants, givers of life to men. With your strength, enduring power, and might, O herbs, release this man from disease. Now I prepare the remedy. I call upon the living, unfailing, life-giving herbs, the ever-rising, the flowering, the honey-sweet, to grant safety to this man. Let the wise, earth-born ones come at my words, so that together we may deliver this man from misfortune. The food of Agni, the embryo of the waters, those that grow again and again—may the firm, thousand-named healing herbs be brought here. Let the herbs, whose essence is water, with downward-pointing stalks and sharp points, drive away all misfortune. Let the fierce herbs, which release poisons, destroy strength and food, and remove sorcery, be set free here for healing and protection.