For the glory of the worlds, the radiant Daughter of the Sun, resplendent and abundant, stood upon her chariot, endowed with a hundred powers. In her presence, magicians performed their wonders, and among the worshippers, dancers sprang forth, animated by the sacred rites. Upon this scene, beauty and radiance descended—splendor bestowed upon the Daughter of the Sun by the divine powers. Swift horses followed in her wake, their speed a mark of her glory, and the lords of the altar, honored by praise, signaled her auspicious arrival. The Asvins, swift and ever-vigilant, brought their chariots and horses, their minds racing ahead, eager to join the assembly and urge on those who had come before. Their generosity flowed like a nourishing cow, bestowing abundant gifts time and again. Sweet and excellent were the hymns sung in their honor, and those who followed their path of generosity arrived, blessed by their bounty. In the city of the swift, the speaker received a hundred cooked dishes and a hundred more in the granary—a testament to the generosity of Shanda, who gave ten fat cows and overcame the mighty. The Asvins themselves granted a hundred and a thousand horses, traversing the many mountain paths. The poet beseeched them: “Grant to Bharadvaja, O heroes, your abundant power, and let the destroyers be defeated.” Yearning for their favor, the seekers prayed to attain the Asvins’ broad, noble path. Then the radiant splendors of the dawns arose, gleaming above the waters, their horses shining in the early light. The Dawn herself made all paths good and easy, and generous rewards became abundant wherever she shone. Beautiful to behold, the Dawn spread her rays across the sky, revealing her form and illuminating the world with her greatness. Drawn by red horses, she spread good fortune widely, driving away enemies like a spear and dispelling the darkness with swift, carrier-like speed. Her path wound easily over the mountains, and with her own light, she banished the night, bringing abundant wealth for the nourishment of her children. With yoked horses, the Dawn brought the best gifts, carrying the desired treasures with joy. Glorious in ancient invocations, she shone splendidly as the Daughter of Heaven. At her coming, the birds of the dwelling flew up, and men rose to share in the gifts of the Father at dawn. The Dawn brought much to the homes of worshipping mortals, bestowing her bounty upon those who honored her. This Daughter of Heaven, ever-shining, rose among peoples both human and divine. Radiant and beautiful, she was recognized beyond the darkness and the nights. The Dawns, with red-yoked horses, shone forth in splendor; their moon-like chariots led the way for the great sacrifice, driving away the darkness of the waves. The Dawns brought glory, strength, nourishment, and vigor to mortals and worshippers alike. Generous, they granted heroic offspring and bestowed precious gifts upon those who offered hymns. Now, indeed, the Dawns had granted these gifts—now, for the hero, the worshipper, and the inspired poet reciting hymns. From ancient times, they carried the seeker’s prayers to fulfillment. The Angiras praised the Dawns for cattle and cows, and, with the sun’s ray and prayer, they broke through barriers; the invocation of men to the gods was true. The poet called: “Rise, O ancient Daughter of Heaven, generous as Bharadvaja, and grant us abundant wealth and heroic strength; place wide-famed glory upon us.” The wise knew her form—one name, the Cow, was common, yet she was distributed among all beings. For mortals, she yielded her milk, and once, the bright one, Prishni, gave her nourishing essence. Fires, like Agni, shone in their resting places; the Maruts, children of Prishni and Rudra, grew strong two and three times over. Their dust was golden, and with their prowess, they stood firm. The sons of Rudra, beneficent and steadfast, knew their great and mighty mother. Prishni placed the embryo for beauty. Pure, they did not abandon their origin, nor did they incur blame. When milked, their forms—adorned with beauty—were released according to pleasure. Swiftly, even for milking, they bore the strong name of the Maruts. Never wearied by praise or greatness, the generous Maruts drove away the fierce, and with strength and boldness, yoked both heaven and earth together. For them, heaven and earth, shining with their own light, stood firm, and the space between did not fail. Without hindrance, the Maruts moved swiftly, unhindered by horses, chariots, or bonds—they traversed the realms of heaven and earth, accomplishing their deeds. No one could stop or surpass the one aided by the Maruts; whether in offspring, cattle, children, or waters, he broke through all barriers and attained the sky. The poet offered splendid hymns to the mighty Maruts, praising their self-power. Their mighty deeds shook earth and Agni, and their bright spears flashed like Agni’s tongues at the sacrifice. Threefold were their praises, and their movements were heroic; the Maruts, shining at birth, were invincible. The growing Marut, son of Rudra, was invoked with prayer—pure in mind, untouched by the mighty mountains, he led the hosts of heaven. Among all beings, Mitra and Varuna were the greatest. The poet prayed that they might grow with the hymns offered. Like radiant rays, they restrained the most desirable, upholding two peoples—unequal yet protected by their own arms. The poet’s inspired thought spread out in loving reverence toward their sacred seat, seeking protection, a shield, and strong defense from the generous deities. Mitra and Varuna were invited to the well-lauded offering, invoked with reverent homage. Ever-vigilant, they listened to the prayers of the people, their greatness renowned. Like swift horses yoked together, pure and allied, when Aditi bore the embryo of truth, Mitra and Varuna, mighty and great, were born and fiercely cast down the foe for mortals. All the gods, exulting in their greatness, bestowed dominion upon them in harmony. Present everywhere, Mitra and Varuna encompassed the broad heavens and earth, their unfailing, unerring spies ever watchful. They upheld dominion throughout the days, stretching forth the summit like the sky’s measure. Their firm ordinance sustained both earth and heaven—the upholders of law, the all-gods. They filled the vessel and the womb, replenishing the dwellings of householders; the young women, unwearied, tirelessly bore the all-nourishing milk. With their wise tongues, Mitra and Varuna tasted the offering, their true desire fulfilled by the rite. Their greatness, rich in ghee, abided among the worshippers, scattering all harm. When Mitra and Varuna moved forth, their dear ordinances were upheld by the young; neither gods nor mortals, nor those without sacrifice, nor the offspring of the waters, could transgress their laws. When the singers uttered their praise, some proclaimed it, others reflected upon it. Thus, the poet declared their true hymns, for among the gods, none equaled the greatness of Mitra and Varuna.