Go forth, O sage, toward the mighty host of the Maruts, those generous ones whose giving spirit rivals that of Mitra himself. From the heights of the sky, they descend with powerful energy, their presence summoned and praised by the thoughts of men, coming ever in search of worthy gifts. As we reflect upon these radiant deities, let us approach them as one would enter a welcoming home: generous in heart, mindful, and accompanied by the noble. We come bearing our praises and adornments, eager to honor them. These noble Maruts, spoken of among my own kin, are often remembered in connection with the sacred cow and with Pṛśni, their mother; the wise declare Rudra, the mighty one, as their father. Generosity marks their coming: seven givers, each bestowing a hundred gifts, honored me on the banks of the renowned Yamunā. There, below, I purified the reward of cattle, and above, I cleansed the reward of horses. Yet, who truly knows the birth of these Maruts? Who, in ancient times, was favored by them, who first harnessed their power? Who has heard the stories of these gods, standing tall in their chariots, and knew where their journeys led? For whom did they pour forth their blessings—was it for Sudās, with his offerings and the rains that came together? It has been told to me that the Maruts have arrived, shining with splendor and joy. Noble, youthful, flawless in their vigor, they inspire the wise to sing their praises. Adorned with axes, self-luminous, garlanded with gold and armed with spears, they are glorious both in their chariots and upon the open plains. In joy, I have set your chariots, O Maruts, ever-giving, upon their path; the rains, like rivers in the sky, follow in your wake. The generous pour out the heavenly vessel for the worshipper, releasing Parjanya so that the rains may spread across the earth and sweep over the plains. Rivers rush swiftly, foaming, as dust rises like a herd of cows; the horses, set free upon the path, speed forward, the swiftest leading the way. Come, O Maruts, from the sky, from the midspace, with delight. Do not remain distant. Let not the rivers—Rasā, Anitabha, Kubhā, Krumu, nor the mighty Sindhu—hold you back; let not the full-flowing Sarayu hinder your coming. May your favor be with us. Your host, your chariots, O Maruts, form a fierce and ever-renewing troop, with the rains always following after them. Host after host, band after band, we follow you with our thoughts and praises. For whom, O noble and well-born Maruts, worthy of offerings, do you go forth today, traveling this path? By this path, you bring grain and seed, undiminished, for offspring and children. Grant us, O Maruts, that which we seek: the reward of all-encompassing prosperity. May we cross over the deep, firm in your blessings, leaving behind harm and enemies; with rain and joy, O Maruts, grant us healing as we journey together with you. Truly blessed and heroic is the one whom you protect, O Maruts. May we too be such, always under your care. Praise these generous ones, praise their dwelling; as battle-steeds run to fresh grass, so let us call our ancient friends with our voices and sing to those who desire our songs. To the troop of the Maruts, self-luminous, I offer this newly born speech, sprung from the mountain. Let us praise with song their great manliness, radiant in glory, those who perform sacrifices upon the very back of the sky. To you, O Maruts—strong, ever-young, yoked with swift horses, stormy in your might—we sing. You bear the lightning and roar together; the waters resound, and the swift ones pour down their gifts. Men of shining brilliance, the Maruts, stormy and mountain-born, drive chariots that seem to strike fire. Even as they bring rain, they thunder again and again, wrapped in roaring, mighty force, pouring forth their blessings. The Rudras, powerful and mighty, scatter all coverings, sweeping apart the midspace and the regions. When you, O Maruts, drive away obstacles as a ship parts the waves, you do not fail even in the face of danger. Your strength and greatness, Maruts, stretch far, like the sun’s course across the sky. In your wanderings, your fires cannot be seized, even as you traverse the mountains without horses. The Marut troop shone forth when you, adorned, did not harm the tree, just as a skilled one does not break it; united in will, you lead us on a good path, as a wise guide leads the sighted. He whom you favor, O Maruts, is never overcome, never slain, never decays, nor trembles, nor perishes. Enemies cannot approach his wealth, whether he be a sage or a king. Like victors in battle, O Maruts, your bands cannot be deceived; they fill the vessel when the singers have sounded, moistening the earth with the sweetness of soma. Let the earth incline to the Maruts, let the sky incline to those who strive, let the paths of the midspace and the ancient mountains incline toward them. When, O Maruts, full of strength and shining like the rising sun, you rejoice, your horses never tire as they run, swiftly reaching the end of the path. Upon your shoulders are spears, on your thighs daggers, and on your chests golden ornaments, O Maruts, shining on your splendid chariots. With arms bright as fire and lightning in your hands, your golden crests spread upon your heads. That unseized, flaming, shining summit—the bright-leaved one—you shake, O Maruts. From the farthest places, you assemble swiftly when the sound of your heroes rings out across the world. From you, O Maruts, may we obtain discerning wealth, abundant and fit for chariots. May the unfailing one, like a sure archer, bring us a thousandfold treasure. You, O Maruts, grant splendid, heroic wealth; you protect the sage and the singer of the Sama. You give the racer his prize for victory, and bestow kingship upon the worthy. That wealth I seek from you, O Maruts, which, with your help, we may share among men. May this my pleasing word delight you, O Maruts, by whose power we may cross a hundred winters. With sacrificial zeal, O Maruts, shining in your forms and bearing great strength, you set forth with golden ornaments upon your breasts, your well-trained, swift horses drawing your chariots along a favorable path. You carry your own strength as you know best, great and mighty ones, shining forth widely. You have measured out the midspace with your power, and your splendid chariots advance in perfect order. Born together, splendid, released together, the Maruts have grown strong for glory. Radiant like the rays of the sun, their chariots move forward in unison. Your greatness, O Maruts, is adorned and worthy to be seen, like the eye of the sun itself. Grant us immortality, we pray, as your splendid chariots advance in order. You, O Maruts, stir the waters from the ocean, showering rain, rich in abundance. No wondrous cows withhold from you; your splendid chariots continue ever onward, in perfect order, bearing your blessings across the world.