Listen to the ancient tale of the gods and their wondrous deeds, as sung in the hymns of old. When Bhujyu, the son of Tugra, was lost and imperiled in the swirling waters of the vast sea, it was the mighty and compassionate pair—swift as flying birds—who came to his rescue. Their chariot, traversing dustless paths across great distances, bore him safely away from danger, restoring him to the living. These two victorious ones, with their glorious chariot, responded to the call of Vadhrimati, ascending the mountain heights. There, they bestowed their favor upon the one who lay in need, filling the cows with abundance and bringing forth good fortune. Their generosity was unmatched. All the greatness that dwells in the highest heavens and upon earth, whether among gods or mortals, these shining Adityas, Vasus, and Rudras wield as a burning weapon against the demon, upholding the cosmic order. The wise king who rules the spaces between, Mitra and Varuna know him well. He is deep in wisdom, a protector who holds the weapon ready against the deceitful and the one who brings harm, ever vigilant for the sake of truth and righteousness. With their mighty wheel and shining chariot, bearing men, the gods come to guard the offspring of mortals. With their strength, they drive away even the strongest enemy of man, severing the head of those who threaten peace. From the highest, the middle, and the lowest realms, the generous ones come with their bands. For the singer, they break open even the strongest enclosure, rich with cattle, bestowing their gifts upon those who praise them. Where, then, are those splendid ones, the much-invoked, whom the hymn as messenger could not find among the unworthy? The two Asvins, ever turning toward their devotees, are most beloved; their thoughts are steadfast for the one who calls upon them. Come, O Asvins, to the offering, as those who praise you invite. Drink the Soma, let your course circle unhindered, and let nothing interrupt your praise. A path has been prepared for the Soma-drinker; sacred grass is spread, welcoming your approach. With hands raised, the youthful priest honors you, and the shining stones mark your arrival. Agni stands upright in the rituals, the offering flows adorned with ghee. The eager-minded priest advances, yoking the oblation for you, O Asvins. For glory, the daughter of the Sun, rich in powers, stands upon the chariot, radiant with a hundred energies. Through their wondrous magic, the magicians have acted, and among the worshippers, the dancers are born. You have brought beauty and radiance to the daughter of the Sun, O Asvins. Your swift horses follow in your glory, and the praised speech marks your arrival, O lords of the altar. Your chariots, swift as thought, carry you here, eager and urging on those who came before. Your generosity, abundant as a nourishing cow, bestows wealth again and again; sweet are the hymns sung in your honor, and those who follow your path of giving are blessed. To me, in the city of the swift, have come a hundred cooked dishes and a hundred stored in the granary. Shanda, the generous, has given ten fat cows and overcome the mighty. A hundred and a thousand horses have been granted, O Asvins, along the mountain paths. Now, grant to Bharadvaja on the mountain; with your abundant power, let the destroyers be vanquished. May we attain your favor and walk your broad path with the noble ones. Behold, the radiant splendors of the dawns arise, shining upon the waters, their horses gleaming. The dawn makes all good paths and easy ways; her generous rewards become abundant. Beautiful to behold, the dawn shines far and wide, her rays spreading to the sky. She reveals her form, brightening the world with her greatness. Drawn by red horses, she spreads good fortune far and wide. The hero, like a spear, drives away enemies, dispels darkness, and moves swiftly as a messenger. Her path is good and easy, winding even through the mountains. With her own light, she dispels the darkness and brings abundant wealth for our nourishment, O daughter of heaven. With yoked horses, O dawn, you bring the best gifts, carrying the desired treasure with joy. Glorious in ancient invocation, splendid to behold, you are honored as the goddess, daughter of heaven. Even the birds rise at your coming, and men who share in the father awaken at the dawn. You bring much to those at home, O dawn, for the worshipping mortal. This is she, our daughter of heaven, born shining and rising among all peoples, both human and divine. Radiant with her light, she is recognized even beyond the darkness and the nights. The radiant dawns, with red-yoked horses, shine forth in splendor. Their moon-like chariots lead the way for the great sacrifice, driving away the darkness of the waves. The dawns bring glory, strength, nourishment, and vigor to the worshipper and to mortals. Generous, they grant heroic offspring; today, bestow the precious gift upon the one who offers. Now, indeed, you dawns have bestowed the precious gift—now, for the hero, for the worshipper. For the inspired poet reciting hymns, you have always carried gifts for the seeker, even from ancient times. Now, O dawns, the Angiras praise you for cattle and cows. With the sun’s ray and prayer, they broke through; true was the invocation of men to the gods. Rise, O daughter of heaven, ancient and generous to the worshipper, like Bharadvāja. Grant us abundant wealth and heroic strength; place glory upon us, wide-famed. Let the wise know this form: one name, the cow, is common, yet she is divided and distributed. For mortals, she yields another for milking; once, the bright one, Pṛśni, gave her milk. The fires, like Agni, shine in their resting places; twice and thrice, the Maruts have grown strong. Their dust is golden; together, with prowess and manliness, they stand. The sons of Rudra, steadfast and beneficent, know their mother—the great and mighty Pṛśni, who placed the embryo for beauty. They remain pure and do not wish to leave their origin; when milked, they release their form, adorned with beauty and delight. Swiftly they bear the strong name of the Maruts, even when being milked. They are not wearied by praise or by their greatness; even now, the generous ones drive away the fierce. These fierce ones, strong and bold, yoke together heaven and earth. For them, heaven and earth, with their own light, stand firm, and space does not fail. Without hindrance, the Maruts move swiftly—even those without horses or chariots, unbound and unoppressed, traverse the realms, accomplishing their work across heaven and earth. None can stop or surpass him whom the Maruts aid in gaining strength. In offspring, cattle, children, or waters, he breaks through enclosures and attains the sky. Offer the splendid hymn to the mighty Maruts, to their self-power. The earth and Agni tremble before their ceremonies, for they endure mighty deeds with might. Radiant as the flash of sacrifice, their bright spears are like tongues of Agni. Threefold are their praises, their movements heroic; the Maruts, shining at birth, are invincible. That growing Marut, with shining vision, son of Rudra, I invoke with prayer—for the hosts of heaven, pure in mind. Even the mighty mountains have not touched him. Thus, the deeds of gods and dawns, the gifts of the generous, and the hymns of the wise are woven together, upholding the world and blessing those who praise with faith.