YEA, specially that mortal man hath toiled for service of the Devas, who quickly hath brought near Mitra and Indra. to share his sacrificial gifts.

Supreme in sovran power, far-sighted, Chiefs and Kings, most swift to hear from far away, Both, wondrously, set them in motion as with arms, in company with Sūrya's beams.

The rapid messenger who runs before you with iron head, swift to the draught,

He whom no ma. May question, non. May summon back, who stands not still for colloquy. From hostile clash with him keep ye us safe this day: keep us in safety with your arms.

To Aryaman and Mitra sing a reverent song, O pious one, a pleasant hymn that shall protect to Indra: sing forth a laud unto the Kings.

The true, Red Treasure they have sent, one only Son born of the Three.

They, the Immortal Ones, never deceived, survey the families of mortal men.

My songs are lifted up, and acts most splendid are to be performed. Come hither, with accordant mind, to meet and to enjoy my gifts.

Lords of great wealth, when we invoke your bounty which no demon checks, Both of you, furthering our eastward-offcred praise, come, Chiefs whom Jamadagni lauds!

Come, Soma, drawn by fair hymns, to our offering that reaches Heaven. Poured on the middle of the strainingcloth, and cooked, this bright drink hath been offered ilice.

He comes by straightest paths, as ministering Monk, to taste the sacrificial gifts. Then, Lord of harnessed teams I drink of the twofold draught, bright Soma mingled with the milk.

Verily, Sūrya, thou art great; truly, Āditya, thou art great. As thou art great indeed, thy greatness is admired: yea, verily Deva, art great.

Yea, Sūrya, thou art great in fame thou evermore, art great. Thou by thy greatness art the Devas’ High Monk, divine, far-spread unconquerable light.

She yonder, bending lowly down, clothed in red hues and rich in rays, is seen, advancing as it were with various tints, amid the ten surrounding arms.

Past and gone are three mortal generations: the fourth and last into the Sun hath entered. He mid the worlds his lofty place hath taken. Into green plants is gone the Purifying.

The Somas' Mother, Daughter of the Devas, centre of nectar, the Ādityas’ Sister- To folk who understand will 1 proclaim it-injure not Aditi, the Cow, the sinless.

Weak-minded men have as a cow adopted me who came hither from the Devas, a Goddess, who, skilled in eloquence, her voice uplifteth, who standeth near at hand with all devotions.