1 Swift Soma drops have been effused in streams of meath, the gladdening drink,

For sacred lore of every kind.

2 Hither to a newer resting-place the ancient Living Ones are come.

God made the Sun that he might shine.

3 O Purifier, bring to us the unsacrificing foeman's wealth,

And give us food with progeny.

4 The living Somas being cleansed diffuse exhilarating drink,

Turned to the vat which drips with meath.

5 The sap flows on intelligent, possessing sap and mighty strength,

Brave Hero who repels the curse.

6 For the Mighty One's sake, O sap, thou art cleansed, a companion of the feast of the righteous:

Thou fain wilt win us strength.

7 Strengthened by this provision, the faithful smote down resistless foes:

Yea, smote them, and shall smite them still.