Upon their mighty shoulders gleam sharp spears, and daggers rest against their powerful thighs. Across their broad chests, golden ornaments shine, catching the light as the Maruts ride forth upon their splendid chariot. Their arms blaze like fire, each hand gripping lightning, and upon their heads, golden crests spread in radiant display. These storm-gods, the Maruts, are resplendent as they sweep across the sky. At their coming, they shake the highest, untouchable summit—the bright-leaved peak that glows with unseized fire. When the far-reaching call of these heroic Maruts rings out, they assemble swiftly, even from the most distant reaches, drawn together by the resounding thunder of their approach. From the Maruts, the wise seek discerning wealth: riches that are abundant and worthy of chariots. The faithful pray that the Maruts, unfailing like a skilled archer, might bring a thousandfold treasure, showering blessings upon their devotees. It is the Maruts who grant splendid, heroic wealth. They stand as protectors of the sage and the singer of the Sama, bestowing victory upon the swift racer and granting kingship to the worthy. From them, the people seek that wealth which, with the Maruts’ help, may be shared among all. The worshipper offers pleasing words, hoping to delight the Maruts, that by their power, they may endure through a hundred winters. With zeal for sacrifice, the Maruts set out, their forms shining, their strength immense. Golden ornaments adorn their breasts as they harness well-trained, swift horses and guide their chariots along favorable paths. They carry their own strength knowingly, shining forth, measuring out the vast midspace with their power. In ordered ranks, their splendid chariots advance, their glory growing together as one, radiant as the rays of the sun. Their greatness is adorned and worthy to behold, shining like the eye of the sun itself. To them, the people pray for immortality, as the Maruts’ chariots move in perfect order. They stir the waters from the ocean, showering rain, rich in abundance; there is no wondrous cow that withholds from them. When the Maruts yoke their spotted mares and harness the golden steeds to the chariots, they scatter all foes before them. No mountain, no river can hinder their path; wherever they set their course, there they go, even encompassing heaven and earth. They are the knowers of all things—ancient and new, prepared and praised. The people entreat them for graciousness, for wide protection, and for friendship, as their chariots thunder forth. The Maruts are called to lead their worshippers towards wealth and away from harm. They are praised and invoked with offerings, that their devotees may become masters of riches. Agni, the fire-god, is called upon to summon the powerful host of the Maruts, adorned with gold, from the shining sky to aid those who offer. As Agni’s heart intends, so may it be for the worshipper, for those nearest have come to the offerings, and the Maruts’ strength increases. The Maruts come rejoicing, like the earth rich in gifts, their force as fierce as a bear, as wild as a bull, as powerful as a mighty cow. With their strength, they loosen all bonds, shaking even stone, mountain, and hill. The singer rises up in praise, calling the unprecedented, marvelous host of Maruts, who flow forth like a herd of cows. Their red and tawny steeds are yoked to the chariots, swift and best for drawing, while the vigorous, roaring, splendid one is set before all to be seen. The Maruts are urged onward, their chariots famed for glory, bearing treasures, standing between the two worlds. The host of the Maruts is mighty and worthy of praise, adorned for the chariot. Among them, the well-born and fortunate one is magnified, and the bountiful Maruts are ever celebrated. O Rudras, endowed with Indra’s might, united and riding golden chariots, the Maruts are invoked for well-being. The prayer rises to them like thirst from waters to the sky. They possess voices, spears, wisdom, fine bows, arrows, and quivers; their steeds are noble, their chariots splendid, born of Prishni, their own weapons ever ready. The Maruts are bringers of auspiciousness. At their approach, the sky and mountains shake, forests tremble in fear, and the earth stirs. Fierce and splendid children of Prishni, they yoke their spotted mares and sweep across the world. Swift as the wind, they pour rain, their steeds—tawny, red, and shining—resounding like the sky itself. The Maruts are rich in gifts, adorned, generous, and splendid in appearance, untouched by darkness. Well-born, with golden breasts, they have attained an immortal name in heaven through their radiance. Their spears rest upon their shoulders, strength and power established in their arms, heroism crowning their heads, and weapons ready in their chariots. All glory is woven into their very being. The faithful seek from the Maruts wealth of cattle, horses, chariots, noble sons, and radiant prosperity. They ask for praise and divine favor from these Rudrian ones, praying that the Maruts, abundant in gifts and immortal, may be gracious—wise, youthful, mighty as mountains, and greatly sustaining. The singer now praises the most powerful among them, the ever-new host of Maruts. They bear swift horses, mighty in strength, shining as sovereigns of immortality. Their host is fierce and strong, with jaws like blades, steadfast and skilled in magic, givers of gifts and boundless in greatness. The Maruts are called to come today in their swift chariots, all bringers of rain. The fire is kindled for them, and they are invited to accept it, wise and youthful as they are. They make the king renowned among the people, generating him splendid for sacrifice. From the Maruts comes the strong-armed, fist-wielding hero; from them, the noble horse is born. Like wanderers, the Maruts move unrestrained, ever born anew, mighty in their deeds, the excellent sons of Prishni, seeking to unite with their own wisdom. When they advance with their spotted horses and golden chariots, they churn the waters, break the forests, and the bull roars as the sky thunders. Their movement spreads so widely that even the earth yields, like a mother bearing her child. The wind-horses are yoked to their chariots, and the Rudrian Maruts make rain and cause the world to tremble. Again, the prayer rises: O men, O Maruts, be gracious—abundant in gifts, immortal, knowers of truth, true to hearing, wise, youthful, mighty as mountains, and greatly sustaining. The people honor and invoke the Maruts, their shining chariots ever advancing, their blessings sought by all.