The ancient sages gather in reverence, invoking the divine powers that sustain and bless their lives. With heartfelt prayers, they call upon the Aśvins, those radiant lords of beauty who once protected Kanva. “O Aśvins,” they entreat, “with the same aids by which you shielded Kanva, protect us now. Drink the Soma, you who grow strong through truth.” Their voices rise, seeking the wondrous ones’ favor for Sudās, asking the Aśvins to bring riches upon their splendid chariot, drawn by swift horses, bestowing treasures from the ocean or the sky—gifts that fulfill every desire. No matter where the Aśvins, the Nāsatyas, may be—whether far away or with Turvaśa—their devotees urge them to come forth, riding their well-yoked chariot, accompanied by the rays of the sun. The swift horses, adorned for sacrifice, are called to bring the Aśvins to the pressing of Soma. Generous and nourishing to the doer of good, the Aśvins are invited to sit upon the sacred grass, honored guests among men. With their sun-bright chariot, the Nāsatyas are summoned once more, as they have always brought riches to the worshipper and drunk the honeyed Soma. The Kanvas, beloved in assembly, raise hymns and songs to draw the Aśvins near, seeking help from these possessors of many treasures. For in the gatherings of the Kanvas, the Aśvins have always partaken of Soma, their presence a source of blessing. As the prayers continue, the Dawn is invoked. “O Dawn, daughter of heaven, shine forth with your power,” the sages beseech. She is asked to bring brilliance and wealth, revealing the light and bestowing gifts. With horses, cattle, and all-knowing treasures, the Dawn moves for the worship of the people. Her arrival awakens all, granting fair speech and urging on the bounty of the generous. The goddess Dawn rises, ever young, leading chariots. Those who attend her journeys are steadfast and renowned, their fame spreading like the ocean. The lords who harness their minds to her journeys are praised, and among them, Kanva—the most devoted—sings her name among men. Like a young woman, the Dawn comes forth, distributing gifts, making the people grow old with her steps, and awakening the birds to the new day. She scatters the assembly, opens the ways, and shines like a path that never goes astray. Birds eager to fly do not sit still at her dawning, for she is the bringer of horses. Far away, at the rising of the sun, she is yoked; with a hundred chariots, the fortunate Dawn moves forth, shining among men. For all to see, she makes the world visible, the daughter of the sun bringing light. She is asked to drive away hatred and darkness, revealing herself among the dwellings and bringing abundant good fortune. The sages praise her as the breath and life of all, the bringer of light. With her great chariot, the radiant Dawn is urged to hear their splendid, generous invocation. She is asked to bring strength, resplendent among humankind, and carry the offerings of the pious to the rituals and fires that praise her. The Dawn is called to bring all the gods for the drinking of Soma, granting wealth of cattle and horses, worthy praise, strength, and heroic power. Her bright rays shine for the good of all. The Dawn is asked to grant beautiful, all-encompassing wealth, easy to attain. Even the ancient sages invoked her for help and great support; now, the people ask her to accept their praises and bestow generous gifts. When she opens the doors of heaven with her light, the Dawn is petitioned to grant unfailing, wide protection and abundant blessings rich in cattle. She is called to unite the people with great, all-beautiful wealth, gatherings, glory, all-conquering might, and strength. The Dawn is welcomed as she comes with blessings, borne from the shining of heaven. The bearers of Varuṇa bring her, the Soma-offerers welcome her to their home. Her splendid, comfortable chariot stands ready to lead the renowned people forward, for she is the daughter of heaven. At her arrival, birds, winged ones, bipeds, and quadrupeds awaken, following the seasons at the edge of heaven. As she shines forth with her rays, she illumines all the realms. The Kanvas call her with their songs, longing for wealth. Then, the rays carry up Jātavedas, the Sun, for all to see. As the rays, like thieves, depart with the night, they go to the Sun, the all-seeing one. The rays of the unseen Sun spread among the people, shining like fires. Swiftly moving and all-seeing, the Sun is the maker of light, illuminating all the realms. He turns toward the gatherings of gods, men, and all that is to be seen. With his pure eye, the radiant Sun beholds all people; Varuṇa sees through him. The Sun traverses the sky, measuring its vast expanse with his rays, observing the births of all beings. Seven bay steeds carry him in his chariot, the fiery-haired, all-seeing god. The Sun, offspring of the chariot, has yoked seven shining mares; with these self-harnessed ones, he journeys onward. Rising above the darkness, the people behold the higher light, reaching the god among gods—the Sun, the supreme light. As the Sun rises today, friend of all, ascending the highest heaven, he is asked to remove the heart’s disease and the yellow hue from the devotee. The yellow hue is placed into white vessels, and then into vessels of turmeric. The Sun rises with all-conquering might, driving away adversaries and ensuring the devotee does not fall into the power of foes. Finally, the sages turn to Indra, the ram, much-invoked and worthy of song, the oceanic lord of wealth. With hymns, they exalt him, acknowledging his greatness, which cannot be encompassed by men, as vast as the heavens. His might is supreme, and the inspired ones praise him, seeking his blessing and protection. Thus, the story unfolds—a tapestry of prayer and praise, invoking the Aśvins, the Dawn, the Sun, and Indra, each divine force called upon to grant protection, wealth, light, strength, and blessings to the devoted assembly.