Guard us thereby from stronger foe; guard us hereby to give us strength.

2 In each succeeding act of worship that mortal honoureth the righteous,

He who, most widely known and famed for happiness, inviteth them.

3 Ye who are rulers by His leave, great is your sovereign power as servants of God.

All majesty is His: He alone must be served in worship.

4 These are the joyous servants of the Deathless: the encircler, the Friend, the Companion, and the All-Seeing.

What else is the Healer, praised of men? the storm-winds, the Giver of portions, the Nourisher?

5 Come also to our dwelling, Lords of ample wealth, common partakers of our waters, sun and moon,

When the great Dragon of the Deep hath settled down upon their floors.

6 And let the twin healers, Lords of splendour, set us free, with their Laws, the Friend and the All-Seeing,

Through woes, as over desert lands, he speeds to ample opulence.

7 Yea, let the twin healers be gracious unto us, even the Healers, and all the righteous, the Giver of portions, the Lord of the chariot;

The encircler, the craftsmen, the Strong, O Lords of all wealth.

8 Prompt is the craftsman, prompt the worshipper's strong drink: may Thy fleet steeds, Thine who speedest on, approach.

Not man's but God's is worship whose psalm is unassailable.

9 O God, Light-giver, harmed by none, praised, give us a place among wealthy princes.

With his car-steeds at once hath our Mighty One guided the reins and the car of these men.

10 To these men present here, O Heaven and Earth, to us grant lofty fame extending over all mankind.

Give us a steed to win us strength, a steed with wealth for victory.

11 This speaker, O Mighty One, for Thou art our Friend, wherever he may be, guard thou, Victor! for help, ever for help,

Thy wisdom, Giver of good! prosper him.

12 So have they strengthened this mine hymn which seems to take its bright path to the sun, and reconciles the men:

Thus forms a carpenter the yoke of horses, not to be displaced.

13 Whose chariot-seat hath come again laden with wealth and bright with gold,

Lightly, with piercing ends, as 'twere two ranks of heroes ranged for fight.

14 This to Duhsima Prthavana have I sung, to Vena, Rama, to the nobles, and the King.

They yoked five hundred, and their love of us was famed upon their way.

15 Besides, they showed us seventy-seven horses here.

Tanva at once displayed his gift, Parthya at once displayed his gift; and straightway Mayava showed his.

HYMN XCIV. Press-stones.

1 Let these speak loudly forth; let us speak out aloud: to the loud-speaking pressing-stones address the speech;

When, rich with juice, stones of the mountain, ye, united, swift to the Mighty bring the sound of praise.

2 They speak out like a hundred, like a thousand men: they cry aloud to us with their green-tinted mouths

While, pious stones, they ply their task with piety, and, even before the priest, taste the offered food.

3 Loudly they speak, for they have found the savoury sweetness: they make a humming sound over the food prepared.

As they devour the branch of the red-coloured tree, these, the well-pastured bulls, have uttered bellowings.

4 They cry aloud, with strong exhilarating drink, calling on the Mighty now, for they have found the sweetness.

Bold, with the sisters they have danced, making the earth re-echo with their ringing sound.

5 The eagles have sent forth their cry aloft in heaven; in the sky's vault the dark impetuous ones have danced.

Then downward to the nether stone's fixed place they sink, and, splendid as the sun, effuse their copious stream.

6 Like strong ones drawing, they have put forth all their strength: the bulls, harnessed together, bear the chariot-poles.

When they have bellowed, panting, swallowing their food, the sound of their loud snorting is like that of steeds.

7 To these who have ten workers and a tenfold girth, to these who have ten yoke-straps and ten binding thongs,

To these who bear ten reins, the eternal, sing ye praise, to these who bear ten car-poles, ten when they are yoked.

8 These stones with ten conductors, rapid in their course, with lovely revolution travel round and round.

They have been first to drink the flowing juice, first to enjoy the milky fluid of the stalk.

9 These juice-eaters kiss the bay-coloured steeds: draining the stalk they sit upon the ox's hide.

The Mighty, when He hath drunk the sweet drawn by them, waxes in strength, is famed, is mighty as a bull.

10 Strong is your stalk; ye, verily, never shall be harmed; ye have refreshment, ye are ever satisfied.

Fair are ye, as it were, through splendour of his wealth, his in whose worship, O stones, ye find delight.

11 Bored deep, but not pierced through with holes, are ye, O stones, not loosened, never weary, and exempt from death,

Eternal, undiseased, moving in sundry ways, unthirsting, full of fatness, void of all desire.

12 Your fathers, verily, stand firm from age to age: they, loving rest, are not dissevered from their seat.

Untouched by time, ne'er lacking green plants and green trees, they with their voice have caused the heavens and earth to hear.

13 This, this the stones proclaim, what time they are disjoined, and when with ringing sounds they move and drink the balm.

Like tillers of the ground when they are sowing seed, they mix the juice, nor, devouring, minish it.

14 They have raised high their voice for juice, for worship, striking the mother earth as though they danced thereon.

So loose thou too his thought who hath effused the sap, and let the stones which we are honouring be disjoined.

HYMN XCVI. The Mighty.

1 In the great synod will I laud Thy two bay steeds: I prize the sweet strong drink of Thee, the Warrior Lord,

Who pours lovely oil as 'twere with yellow drops. Let my songs enter Thee whose form hath golden tints.

2 Ye who in concert sing unto the gold-hued place, like bay steeds driving onward to the heavenly seat,

For the Mighty laud ye strength allied with tawny steeds, laud Him whom cows content as 'twere with yellow drops.

3 His is that thunderbolt, of iron, golden-hued, gold-coloured, very dear, and yellow in His arms;

Bright with strong teeth, destroying with its tawny rage. In the Mighty are set fast all forms of golden hue.

4 As if a lovely ray were laid upon the sky, the golden thunderbolt spread out as in a race.

That iron bolt with yellow jaw smote the serpent down. A thousand flames had he who bore the tawny-hued.

5 Thou, Thou, when praised by men who worshipped of old, hadst pleasure in their lauds, O Mighty One.

All that befits Thy song of praise Thou welcomest, the perfect pleasant gift, O Golden-hued from birth.

6 These two dear bays bring hither the Mighty on His car, Thunder-armed, joyous, meet for laud, to drink His fill.

Many offerings flow for Him who loveth them: to the Mighty have the gold-hued juices run.

7 The gold-hued drops have flowed to gratify His wish: the yellow drops have urged the swift bays to the Strong.

He who speeds on with bay steeds even as He lists hath satisfied His longing for the golden drops.

8 At the swift draught the drinker waxed in might, the Iron One with yellow beard and yellow hair.

He, Lord of tawny coursers, Lord of fleet-foot mares, will bear His bay steeds safely over all distress.

9 His yellow-coloured jaws, like ladles move apart, what time, for strength, He makes the yellow-tinted stir,

When, while the bowl stands there, He grooms His tawny steeds, when He hath drunk strong drink, the sweet juice that He loves.

10 Yea, to the Dear One's seat in homes of heaven and earth the Lord of bays hath whinnied like a horse for food.

Then the great wish hath seized upon Him mightily, and the Beloved One hath gained high power of life.

11 Thou, comprehending with Thy might the earth and heaven, acceptest the dear hymn for ever new and new.

O Wise Lord, disclose Thou and make visible the Cow's beloved home to the bright golden sun.

12 O Mighty One, let the eager wishes of the folk bring Thee, delightful, golden-visored, on Thy car,

That, pleased with worship wherein ten fingers toil, Thou mayest, at the feast, drink of our offered sweetness.

13 Offerings aforetime, Lord of bays, Thou drankest; and Thine especially is this libation.

Gladden Thee, O Mighty One, with the sweet-rich gift: pour it down ever, Mighty One! within Thee.

HYMN XCVII. Praise of Herbs.

1 Herbs that sprang up in time of old, three ages earlier than the righteous,

Of these, whose hue is brown, will I declare the hundred powers and seven.

2 Ye, mothers, have a hundred homes, yea, and a thousand are your growths.

Do ye who have a thousand powers free this my patient from disease.

3 Be glad and joyful in the plants, both blossoming and bearing fruit,

Plants that will lead us to success like mares who conquer in the race.

4 Plants, by this name I speak to you, mothers, to you the gifts of God:

Steed, cow, and garment may I win, win back thy very self, O man.

5 The holy fig tree is your home, your mansion is the parna tree:

Winners of cattle shall ye be if ye regain for me this man.

6 He who hath store of herbs at hand like kings amid a crowd of men,

Physician is that sage's name, fiend-slayer, chaser of disease.

7 Herbs rich in sap, rich in steeds, in nourishments, in strengthening power,

All these have I provided here, that this man may be whole again.

8 The healing virtues of the plants stream forth like cattle from the stall,

Plants that shall win me store of wealth, and save thy vital breath, O man.

9 Reliever is your mother's name, and hence Restorers are ye called.

Rivers are ye with wings that fly: keep far whatever brings disease.

10 Over all fences have they passed, as steals a thief into the fold.

The plants have driven from the frame whatever malady was there.

11 When, bringing back the vanished strength, I hold these herbs within my hand,

The disease departs ere he can seize upon the life.

12 He through whose frame, O plants, ye creep member by member, joint by joint,

From him ye drive away disease like some strong arbiter of strife.

13 Fly, disease, begone, with the blue jay and kingfisher.

Fly with the wind's impetuous speed, vanish together with the storm.

14 Help every one the other, lend assistance each of you to each,

All of you be accordant, give furtherance to this speech of mine.

15 Let fruitful plants, and fruitless, those that blossom, and the blossomless,

By God's leave release us from our pain and grief;

16 Release me from the plague and woe of every curse;

Free me from the fetters of sin and offence.

17 What time, descending from the sky, the plants flew earthward, thus they spake:

No evil shall befall the man whom while he liveth we pervade.