Among all the gods, Vāyu, the swift and mighty wind, is honored as the foremost to receive the pressed Soma, the sacred draught of delight. Of all the swiftly moving hosts and chosen peoples, it is to Vāyu that the cows yield their richest butter, an offering of abundance. Vāyu is called to the sacrificial seat, invited to partake in refreshment with countless teams, hundreds and thousands at his command. The gods themselves have harnessed their energies for Vāyu’s first draught, setting forth honey-sweet libations for his pleasure and power. For Vāyu, the Soma, purified by stones and glowing with splendor, streams into the vessel, shining and adorned. Among the gods, this share of Soma is invoked for Vāyu’s life-giving presence. The priests call to him: “Bring your teams, O Vāyu; come gladly to our rite.” Again and again, Vāyu is invited with his hundreds and thousands of teams to the sacrifice, to the well-prepared offerings. The radiant officiant, together with the sun, is honored with his share, as the priests drive forth the shining ones to the sacred gathering. Vāyu’s chariot, yoked with his teams, arrives for help and for the feast, to partake of the honeyed Soma set aside for him. He is urged to come with shining bounty, accompanied by Indra, to receive the gifts prepared in reverence. To Indra and Vāyu together, the thoughts of the worshippers turn; the swift Soma is purified like a spirited horse for their delight. The two great gods are summoned to drink, to grant strength and reward at the rite, for it is they who bestow the prize. The Somas for Indra and Vāyu are pressed in the waters and borne by the priests; the shining draughts are filtered and flow eagerly, ever-renewed, passing beyond the wool, always fresh for the gods. Vāyu is called to go beyond to where the Soma flows endlessly and the stones speak in constant rhythm. There, Indra too is summoned to the sacrificial house, where gracious speech is heard, clarified butter is poured, and the full company advances to the rite. Here, the two gods accept the sweet offering; their sons attend the sacred fig tree, and the wish is made for sons to be born among men. The cows are milked, the barley is cooked, and for Vāyu, the cows come forward, eager to give. Vāyu’s mighty, strong-armed ones, the bulls, fly within the rivers and grow in strength. Even in the desert, even when old and dwelling on the mountain, they remain tireless, radiant like the sun’s rays, impossible to restrain. With reverence, the worshippers bring forth the highest praise, the ancient and great offering, to the gracious two—Mitra and Varuṇa—who are rich in ghee and worthy of sacrifice. Their power is unmatched and unconquered, their divinity enduring. The broad, spacious path of truth is seen, measured by the rays of Bhaga’s vision. The shining seat of Mitra, Aryaman, and Varuṇa is established, and the great hymn of praise is raised to them, celebrating their strength. These gods uphold radiant, immortal Aditi and the earth filled with light. Day after day, ever wakeful, they watch over all. The Ādityas, lords of gifts, possess radiant power; Mitra and Varuṇa guide the people, Aryaman leads them according to law. May the most pleasant Soma be auspicious for Mitra and Varuṇa, the god without misfortune among gods. May all the gods together enjoy this Soma today, and may the two kings, as desired, act in accordance with truth. Whoever among men worships Mitra and Varuṇa is protected from harm, blameless and guarded by Aryaman, who guides him along the straight path. With hymns and praises, the devotee adorns their ordinance. Homage is paid to the great heaven and the two worlds; praise is offered to Mitra and Varuṇa, the most gracious, as well as to Indra, Agni, Aryaman, and Bhaga. The prayer is for long life, offspring, and unity through Soma’s grace. With the aid of the gods, endowed with Indra’s might, the worshippers seek glory with the Maruts. They pray for shelter from Agni, Mitra, and Varuṇa, that they and their offspring may attain safety and blessing. Gladly, the priests call to Mitra and Varuṇa, the seekers of cows, with eager Somas. The kings who reach to the sky are invited to partake in the bright Somas mixed with cow’s milk. The pressed Soma, mingled with curd, flows to Mitra and Varuṇa, as the dawns awaken them with the sun’s rays. The Soma is prepared for the righteous to drink, a lovely offering. The morning draught is likened to a cow milked with the stones; the Soma is drawn forth for Mitra and Varuṇa to drink, pressed by men with devotion. The greatness of Pūṣan, nobly born, is proclaimed—his might and praise never fail. The worshipper seeks his favor and help, for Pūṣan is the bringer of happiness, the god who turns the thoughts of all. Pūṣan, swift as a chariot, is called upon to guide safely through difficulties, as a camel passes through hardships. The god is invoked as a friend, to make the worshipper’s songs glorious in contests. In Pūṣan’s friendship, the wise find support by their will. The worshippers call upon his ever-fresh company for wealth and seek his gracious companionship in every contest. Ajāśva, another name for Pūṣan, is approached for favor and renowned gifts. The worshippers praise him with excellent hymns, affirming their devotion and friendship to the radiant one. Agni is placed at the forefront of the altar, chosen for divine protection alongside Indra and Vāyu. When these two move at the dawn’s navel, granting new gifts, the prayers of the worshippers rise to the gods. When Mitra and Varuṇa act according to their will, restraining falsehood with wisdom and righteous anger, their abode shines with golden radiance, beheld by the worshippers’ minds and senses, inspired by Soma. To the Ashvins, the twin gods, hymns are raised by worshippers as offerings are brought. Their splendors and riches are spread forth, and their golden horses sprinkle them with dew as they ride in their golden chariot. The Ashvins traverse the sky swiftly, their horses harnessed among the heavenly paths. Upon their golden chariot, they stand, moving swiftly like travelers, guiding the way. The Ashvins are entreated to grant favor day and night, never withdrawing their generosity or the worshippers’ share. To mighty Indra, the Soma juices pressed from the stones are offered, bursting forth for his delight and splendid reward. He is called to come, praised with songs, and to be kind to the worshippers. Agni is invoked to listen and to speak to the gods, to the worshipful kings. When the gods gave the cow to the Angiras, Aryaman milked it out with the cutting tool, knowledge shared between the gods and the worshippers. The worshippers pray that the heroic deeds of the gods never pass them by, that the ancient glories always remain theirs, and that wrath never falls upon them. They ask for all that is wonderful and hard to overcome, especially from the Maruts. The ancestors—Dadhyaṅ, Priyamedha, Kaṇva, Atri, Manu—were wise and knew the way; their descendants are among the gods, and the worshippers bow in their path, singing to Indra and Agni. The priest is called to offer the sacrifice, to win the desired gifts. Bṛhaspati and Vena, with many bulls, perform the rites. The worshippers have grasped the distant sign, the song from the mountain, and the wise one has established many dwellings. To all the gods—eleven in heaven, eleven on earth, eleven in the waters—the worshippers offer sacrifice, asking the mighty ones to accept. For Agni, the radiant beloved, the altar is prepared as a foundation; the pure one is clothed with the mind like a garment, shining and dispelling darkness. Agni, the twice-born and threefold, is purified and renewed each year, praised with another’s tongue, and the offering is cleansed with another’s voice. His two mothers, black and white, stir for him, nurturing the child. With shining, flowing tongue, the companion and nourishment grow. For the release of Manu and his offspring, the swift and dark steeds, black and white, are driven forth, quick and wind-driven, never resting. From Agni, the shining one, they move forth seeking increase, forming the great black cloud. When it touches the earth and spreads, it resounds, breathing and thundering, roaring across the expanse.