We know well the fierce might of the Rudrian ones—the powerful Maruts, roaring and resplendent in their strength—and the generous bounty of Vishnu. When these shining Maruts prepare to set forth, the two worlds themselves seem yoked together, ready and alert; the radiant host sweeps across the fields, their self-luminous presence setting all into motion. At their birth, even the mountains—so unshaken and steadfast—tremble, and the trees shudder; the very earth quivers beneath the passage of these stormy deities. When the Maruts come forth, the vast upper sky is stirred, and beneath their gaze, men display their strength—their bodies, their skins, and the might of their arms shining with vigor. According to their own power, these men—mighty, splendid, and strong—bear their glory and undiminished strength. The offering is anointed with cows, placed upon the chariot of the Sobharis, in a golden vessel; these great ones, kin to cows and well-born, are beyond the reach of hunger, unassailable for sustenance. We offer to you, the bull-like Maruts, the host of the strong and vigorous, our oblations—eagerly, for you are always ready for the offering. With bull-like horses, with bull-like strength, with a chariot and wheels as powerful as a bull, you come like swift eagles to our aid, O Maruts. Your ornaments are alike, shining forth—golden upon your arms; your spears flash like lightning. Fierce and bull-like, with mighty arms, you stand unmatched among men. Your bows are firm, your weapons ready on your chariots, and your splendor radiates from your assembled ranks. Among you, there is no one inferior, no one surpassing—your name is mighty, your strength ever one, inherited from your fathers. Worship and praise the Maruts, for they are the givers of gifts; like the endless spokes of a wheel, their greatness and bounty know no limit. Blessed is he who, shielded by your protection, was favored in dawns gone by, and he who even now enjoys your grace. For those to whom you, O vigorous Maruts, come in support at the offering, may your blessings—rich in glory and strength—always attend them. Just as the sons of Rudra, youthful creators of the divine, possess the heavens, so may it be for us. The Maruts, worthy and generous, move with remembrance and devotion; thus, O youths, you have grown in our hearts. Young and radiant, shining bulls, you are praised with pure speech and resound like singers in song. You are mighty, like a clenched fist at the offering, victorious in every contest among priests—O radiant, glorious Maruts, we praise you in song. Even cows, united in kinship, move harmoniously with you, their companions, along the ridges. Even a mortal, O Maruts, adorned with shining breastplates, may come into your brotherhood; come to us, for your friendship is ever steadfast. O generous Maruts, you bear the healing of the wind; you are the seven friends. With the same power by which you protected the Sindhu, aided Turva, and favored Krivi, may you, bringers of joy, be gracious to us and drive away our foes. Whatever healing is in the Sindhu, the Asikni, in the seas, or on the mountains—rich in offerings—you see it all and bear it in your bodies. With that healing, speak for us, O Maruts; remove the harm from the sick and restore what has been lost. Seeking help, we now turn to you, O matchless one, as men might carry a heavy burden; we invoke you for splendid wealth. We approach you for aid in our work; may that mighty and bold one come to us. We have chosen you, Indra, as our helper and friend, the bestower of strength. Come, O lord of horses, lord of cattle, lord of fields, lord of soma—come and drink the soma. For we, though friendless, have sought you, Indra, who has many friends. Come, wise one, with all your powers, O bull, and drink the soma. Your birds, as in a cow’s shelter, rest in the sweet, intoxicating drink, eager to speak; we praise you, Indra. We approach you with reverence and address you; why should your favors be withheld again and again? There are desires, O wielder of the tawny steeds—grant them; we have thoughts, and you have gifts. O Indra, we are now your new companions, O stone-wielder; before, we did not know you nor your ancient ways. Yet now we know your friendship, O hero, and the joy you grant; for this, O thunderer, we seek you. Shine upon us here, O gracious one, in the contest for the prize, O fair-cheeked, among the cattle. He who formerly brought us this wealth, him we praise; as friends, we seek Indra for help. The lord of the good, with tawny steeds, who delights the people—he brings us cattle and horses, O generous one, a hundred for the singers. With you, O bull, with your might, we speak to the living one in the assembly of the people, rich in cattle. May we, O much-invoked, be victorious in the contest, as doers; may we stand firm in the struggle. With men, may we slay the foe, may we hear, and O Indra, guide our thoughts. You are without kin, without enmity, O Indra; from birth you are independent, ever ready to seek out conflict. You do not seek friendship with the wealthy; your strong horses drink. When you gather the stream, you are invoked like a father. Let not your companions be weak or foolish, O Indra, in your friendship; let us sit together at the offering. Let not your gift of cattle depart from us, O Indra, nor let us lose your favor. Even the firm ones, O lord, you shake; bring us your rewards, for I do not seize them from you.