In the early dawn, the sage Gotama renews his hymn for Indra, the mighty and generous deity. With reverence, he fashions his prayer for the tawny-yoked Lord, imploring Indra to guide the people with his strength and to swiftly bless them at sunrise. Indra, the powerful one, is remembered for his wondrous deeds: by his divine might, he brought forth heaven and established the earth. When he unleashed his force, even the steadfast mountains trembled in fear, their solidity shaken. As Indra’s two steeds are harnessed, the singer places the thunderbolt in his hands. With this unconquered weapon, Indra has destroyed countless enemy fortresses, earning the devotion of many. He is true and bold, the hero who enjoys offerings and possesses great strength. In battle, he struck down Śuṣṇa in the field and aided Kutsā, the radiant one, while still young. Urged on by friends, Indra, the wielder of the bolt, mighty in action, vanquished Vṛtra, the great adversary. Eager for battle, he scattered the Dasyus like loosened chaff, driving away those who opposed him. Indra is the destroyer of the hostile, even among the strongest mortals; he fells foes as a woodcutter fells trees, wielding his bolt with relentless force. Men invoke Indra in contests for wealth and glory, seeking his unwavering favor and aid in their struggles. For Purukutsa, Indra shattered seven fortresses with his bolt, and for Sudās, he scattered hostile bands, granting wide space to Pūru. Indra fills his devotees with shining gifts, as waters fill their courses, protecting them on all sides. His strength nourishes their well-being, flowing like sustenance. For Indra, the Gotamas compose hymns with reverence, praising his steeds and seeking splendid wealth. They yearn for the wise and generous one to swiftly bless them at dawn. The inspired one now turns his hymn to the Maruts, the strong host, gracious and skillful. Like waters, the wise singer arranges songs for them, manifest in the assemblies. The Maruts, vigorous sons of Rudra, were born lofty from the sky—divine, unblemished, and mighty. Bright and pure as the sun, steadfast in strength, they are swift as drops and fearsome in appearance. Young and undying, the Maruts grow unharmed, like mountains. Their power shakes even the firm realms of earth, and by their might, they stir the heavenly ones. Adorned with brilliant ornaments, their splendor shines; their chests bear shining jewels, and their weapons are fastened to their shoulders. Together, by their own power, they were born from the sky. Created by the Lord, the Maruts roar and grow strong, like winds and flashes of lightning. Their heavenly streams pour forth, their showers fill the earth with nourishing waters. Generous givers, they pour out waters rich in ghee, manifest in the assemblies. Like racers in the rain, they lead the swift horse and milk the inexhaustible udder, thundering. Mighty as buffaloes, skilled in magic, shining in brilliance, they are like mountains—self-sustaining and swift to aid. Like wild beasts, elephants, they devour the woods when, in their redness, they harness their power. Like lions, the wise ones roar; their speckled spears quicken the nights, overcoming foes in battle with strength and spirit. The Maruts are renowned among hosts, heroic men with indomitable strength. Their radiance shines from their chariots like lightning, and their thought is evident among their teams. All-knowing and united in will, the men set their arrows upon the bowstring, ready with unending power. With golden spears, nourished by milk, they hurl themselves against the mountains, shining in vision and eager for offerings, their courses fixed and forms fierce. The hymn praises the bright, pure, forest-dwelling, far-seeing sons of Rudra—the Marut host—strong, swift, shining, united, and powerful for glory. Those mortals supported by the Maruts’ strength surpass others, winning wealth, wisdom, and prosperity. The Maruts grant unconquerable, glorious might in battles to the generous, wealth that brings praise and renown, so that the people may prosper with many sons and descendants. They bestow enduring, heroic, ever-victorious wealth, abundant and shining, so that the wise may come early with blessings. Now, the story turns to another wondrous force. Like a herdsman, he moves secretly, harnessed with reverence. The wise ones follow his footsteps, and all the worshipful gods take their seat near him. The gods, in accordance with the laws of truth, become guardians; heaven, like a covering, encompasses earth. The waters, ever-growing, pure, and nourishing, in the womb of truth, bring forth the well-born one. He is like abundant nourishment, like the earth, a mountain, a support, a shelter, a bringer of happiness. Like a swift horse set free at the start, like an unrestrained river—none can surpass him. He is kin to rivers, like a brother to his sister; as king, he takes from both and consumes the forests. Driven by the wind, he scatters the woods—Agni burns, consuming the hairs of the earth. He breathes in the waters like a swan sitting, and by his will, he moves swiftly among the peoples, shining in his presence. Like Soma, he is wise and born of truth; like a calf, he is all-pervading and far-reaching. Like wealth, he is splendid; like the sun, all-seeing; like the sky, eternal; like a son, ever-living. Like a swift horse, he exerts himself; like a cow, pure and radiant, he pours forth nourishment. He upholds safety, delightful as a singer; like ripe barley, he conquers people. Like a sage praised among the tribes, like a victorious steed, he brings forth vigor. His flame shines far, his resolve is constant; like a mother, he opens the womb for all. Thus, the hymns celebrate Indra’s might, the Maruts’ splendor, and Agni’s secret, nourishing power, weaving together the glory of the gods and the blessings they bestow upon those who honor them.