1 Wealth-winner, dwelling in the sky, bringing us vigour with the juice,

Flow to the filter when effused.

2 So, in thine ancient ways, may he, beloved, with a thousand streams

Run o'er the fleecy straining-cloth.

3 Him who is like a caldron shake: shake thy gift to us

Shake it, armed Warrior! with thine arms.

4 Invoked with many a prayer, bring down the vigour of these men,

Of him who threatens us with war.

5 Wealth-giver, with thine help pour out for us a hundred, yea,

A thousand of thy pure bright streams.