I TRIM like grass my song for the Nāsatyas and send their lauds forth as the wind drives rain-clouds, who, in a chariot rapid as an arrow, brought to the youthful Vimada a consort.

Borne on by rapid steeds of mighty pinion, or proudly trusting in the Devas’ incitements.

That stallion ass of yours won, O Nāsatyas, that thousand in the race, in Yama's contest.

Yea, Indra, as a dead man leaves his riches, Tugra left Bhujyu in the cloud of waters. Ye brought him back in animated vessels, traversing air, unwetted by the billows.

Bhujyu ye bore with winged things, Nāsatyas, which for three nights, three days full swiftly travelled, to the sea's farther shore, the strand of ocean, in three cars, hundred-footed, with six horses.

Ye wrought that hero exploit in the ocean which giveth no support, or hold or station, what time ye carried Bhujyu to his dwelling, borne in a ship with hundred oars, O Indra.

The white horse which of old ye gave Aghāśva, Indra, a gift to be his wealth forever. Still to be praised is that your glorious present, still to be famed is the brave horse of Pedu.

O Heroes, ye gave wisdom to Kakṣīvān who sprang from Pajra's line, who sang your praises. Ye poured forth from the hoof of your strong charger a hundred jars of wine as from a strainer.

Ye warded off with cold the fire's fierce burning; food very rich in nourishment ye furnished. Atri, cast downward in the cavern, Indra ye brought, with all his people, forth to comfort.

Ye lifted up the well, O ye Nāsatyas, and set the base on high to open downward. Streams flowed for folk of Gotama who thirsted, like rain to bring forth thousandfold abundance.

Ye from the old Cyavāna, O Nāsatyas, stripped, as ’twere mail, the skin upon his body, Lengthened his life when all had left him helpless, Dasras! and made him lord of youthful maidens.

Worthy of praise and worth the winning. Heroes, is that your favouring assist O Nāsatyas, what time ye, knowing well his case, delivered Vandana from the pit like hidden treasure.

That mighty deed of yours, for gain, O Heroes, as thunder heraldeth the rain, I publish, when, by the horse's head, Atharvan's offspring Dadhyac made known to you the Soma's sweetness.

In the great rite the wise dame called, Nāsatyas, you, Lords of many treasures, to assist her. Ye heard the weakling's wife, as ’twere an order, and gave to her a son Hiraṇyahasta.

Ye from the wolf's jaws, as ye stood together, set free the quail, O Heroes, O Nāsatyas. Ye, Lords of many treasures, gave the poet his perfect vision as he mourned his trouble.

When in the time of night, in Khela's battle, a leg was severed like a wild bird's pinion, Straight ye gave Viśpalā a leg of iron that she might move what time the conflict opened.

His father robbed Ṛjrāśva of his eyesight who for the she-wolf slew a hundred wethers. Ye gave him eyes, Nāsatyas, Wonder-Workers, Physicians, that he saw with sight uninjured.

The Daughter of the Sun your car ascended, first reaching as it were the goal with coursers. All Deities within their hearts assented, and ye, Nāsatyas, are close linked with glory.

When to his house ye came, to Divodāsa, hasting to Bharadvāja, O ye Indra, the car that came with you brought splendid riches: a porpoise and a bull were yoked together.

Ye, bringing wealth with rule, and life with offspring, life rich in noble heroes; O Nāsatyas, Accordant came with strength to Jahnu's children who offered you thrice every day your portion.

Ye bore away at night by easy pathways Jāhuṣa compassed round on every quarter, and, with your car that cleaves the toe asunder, Nāsatyas never decaying! rent the mountains.

One morn ye strengthened Vaśa for the battle, to gather spoils that might be told in thousands. With Indra joined ye drove away misfortunes, yea foes of Pṛthuśravas, O ye mighty.

From the deep well ye raised on high the water, so that Ṛcatka's son, Sara, should drink it; And with your might, to help the weary Śayu, ye made the barren cow yield milk, Nāsatyas.

To Viśvaka son of Kṛṣṇa, the righteous man who sought your aid and praised you, Ye with your powers restored, like some lost creature, his son Viṣṇāpū for his eyes to look on.

Indra, ye raised, like Soma in a ladle Rebha, who for ten days and ten nights, fettered. Had lain in cruel bonds, immersed and wounded, suffering sore affliction, in the waters.

1 have declared your wondrous deeds, O Indra, may this be mine, and many kine and heroes. May I, enjoying lengthened life, still seeing, enter old age as ’twere the house I live in.