In the beginning, before all things, there were the primeval waters—ancient, immortal, and all-encompassing, like a womb bearing the seeds of existence. These waters were wise, knowing the truth, and within them the divine one was established among the goddesses. To which god, then, should we offer our oblation? From these waters, at the dawn of creation, arose the golden embryo—the Hiranyagarbha—shining and unique, the sole lord born of all beings. He upheld the earth and the heavens, supporting the worlds with his might. To which god should we offer our oblation? In those earliest moments, the waters bore the golden calf, the embryo, and united to nurture him. As he was being born, a golden covering formed around him, radiant and pure. To which god should we offer our oblation? As creation unfolded, three beings rose up—the tiger, the man, and the wolf—each swift and powerful in their own right. The rivers flowed swiftly, as did the god of the forest, and so too let the enemies swiftly depart. May the wolf take the distant path, may the thief tread the highest way, let the binding rope be cast far, and let the evil-doer be sent far away. We subdue the tiger’s fierce eyes and mouth, and all his twenty claws. First, the tiger is subdued, then the thief, the serpent, the demon, and the wolf. Whoever comes today as a thief, let him be crushed and driven away; let Indra destroy him with his thunderbolt, casting him out along the path of the outcast. The heads and teeth of the beasts are broken, their backs torn; let the monitor lizard be hidden away, and the deer lie low. O tiger, your eyes and mouth, your claws, all are subdued by this spell—born of Indra, born of Soma, I am Atharvan’s tiger-subduing incantation. What seems restraint is not restraint, and what is not restraint is restraint. Long ago, the Gandharva dug up a special plant for Varuna and for the dead. Now, we dig up that same herb for you—the plant that brings joy and releases bonds. Rise up, O Sun! Rise up, my speech! Let Prajapati, the mighty bull, rise with vigor and strength. Just as you, O herb, are not scorched from your root, may you make the one who receives you even more vigorous. Let the potent essence of herbs and the strength of bulls be placed here, O Indra, in the one who controls his body. The sap of the waters, first-born, and of the trees—indeed, you are the brother of Soma and the virility of the stallion. Today, O Agni, Savitar, divine Sarasvati, and Brahmanaspati, stretch out the fetter like a bowstring. I loosen your bonds as one loosens a bowstring, so you may step forth like a red deer, always tireless. The strength of the horse, mule, goat, ram, and bull—may all that vigor be placed here in the one who controls his body. From the ocean rose the thousand-horned bull, mighty and awe-inspiring. With his power, we lull all people to sleep. The wind does not blow over the earth, nor can anyone see beyond; lull all women to sleep, O friend of Indra, as you move about. Let those women who lie on the floor, on the couch, those who are to be carried away, and those with auspicious fragrance—all of them, let us lull to sleep. The moving and the unmoving, the grasp of sight and breath, the grasp of all limbs—we surpass all the nights, O most dark one. Whoever sits, moves, stands, or sees—their eyes we close, just as this house is closed. Let the mother, father, dog, and lord of the house sleep; let her relatives and all the people around her sleep as well. O Sleep, with your sleep-bringing power, lull all people to rest; send others to the sun, let only me remain awake, unharmed and unwearied like Indra. In the beginning, the Brahman was born first, with ten heads and ten faces. He first drank Soma, and he made poison without taste. As far as heaven and earth extend, as far as the seven rivers stretch, this speech—defiling poison—I have spoken forth from here. The eagle, Garutmat, first carried the poison; it did not reach the mouth, nor the limb, nor become part of the father. He who sits with five fingers, even crooked from the bow—from the splinter, I have spoken out the poison. From the splinter, from the reed, from the leaf, from the bone, horn, and lump, I have spoken out the poison. The arrow, the dart, and your poison are all without sap; the bow of the sapless tree is also sapless. Those who have shot, struck, sat, or let loose—all have been rendered impotent; the impotent one, the poison-mountain, is now powerless. Impotent are your diggers, impotent are you, O herb; impotent is that mountain, that hill from which this poison was born. I restrain the poison with the water-retaining plant growing on the Varana tree, where nectar has been sprinkled—by that, I restrain your poison. The poison of the east and the north are sapless; now, this southern one is rendered harmless with gruel. Prepare gruel, drink it sideways, hot and abundant; hunger has harmed you, eat, and you will not be harmed. From those intoxicated, we cast down the intoxication like an arrow; we restrain the agitated with words as with a charm. We restrain you with words, as one would a gathered village; stand firm like a tree, unmoved, and you will not be harmed. With purifiers they have surrounded you, with distant, unblemished ones; you are scattered, O herb, unmoved, and you will not be harmed. Let those who first acted without reaching not harm our heroes here; let only what is good be set before us. Thus, from the primeval waters to the golden embryo, from the subduing of beasts and enemies, to the release from bonds and the conquering of poison, the divine powers and sacred herbs protect, strengthen, and guide those who honor them with reverence and right action.