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2 Surely men crave and gain their wish. Close to her husband clings the wife. 3 O never may that light, ye Gods, fall from its station in the sky. 4 I ask the last of sacrifice. As envoy he shall tell it forth. 5 Ye Gods who yonder have your home in the three lucid realms of heaven, 6 What is your firm support of Law? What Varuna's observant eye? 7 1 am the man who sang of old full many a laud when Soma flowed. 8 Like rival wives on every side enclosing ribs oppress me sore. 9 Where those seven rays are shining, thence my home and family extend. 10 May those five Bulls which stand on high full in the midst of mighty heaven, 11 High in the mid ascent of heaven those Birds of beauteous pinion sit. 12 Firm is this new−wrought hymn of praise, and meet to be told forth, O Gods. 13 Worthy of laud, O Agni, is that kinship which thou hast with Gods. 14 Here seated, man−like as a priest shall wisest Agni to the Gods 15 Varuna makes the holy prayer. To him who finds the path we pray. 16 That pathway of the Sun in heaven, made to be highly glorified, 17 Trta, when buried in the well, calls on the Gods to succour him. 18 A ruddy wolf beheld me once, as I was faring on my path. 19 Through this our song may we, allied with Indra, with all our heroes conquer in the battle.

2 Like as a calf with mother cows, so Indu is urged forth and sent, 3 Effectual means of power is he, he is a banquet for the Troop, 4 Flow to us, Indu, passing, strong, effused, with wealth of kine and steeds: 5 Lord of the tawny, Indu thou who art the God's most special food, 6 Drive utterly, far away from us each godless, each voracious foe.

2 He whose two Bay Steeds harnessed well, swerving, pursue the Bird's tail−plumes, 3 Bereft of skill is Indra, if, like some outwearied man he fears 4 Indra with these drives round, until he meets with one to worship him: 5 Borne onward by the long−maned Steeds who stretch themselves as 'twere for food, 6 The Mighty sang with Lofty Ones: the Hero fashioned with his strength, 7 The bolt, which pierced at once the vitals of the Dasyu easy to be slain, 8 Grind off our sins: with song will we conquer the men who sing no hymns: 9 When threefold flame burns high for thee, to rest on poles of sacrifice, 10 Thy glory was the speckled cup, thy glory was the flawless scoop. 11 As hundreds, O Immortal God, have sung to thee, so hath Sumitra, yea, Durmitra praised thee here,