harvests, through the mercies of the storm-gods. May that mortal be
blessed, O chasing Maruts, whose offerings you carry off. You take
notice either of the sweat of him who praises you, ye men of true
strength, or of the desire of the suppliant. O ye of true strength, make
this manifest with might! strike the fiend with your lightning! Hide the
hideous darkness, destroy every tusky fiend. Make the light which we
long for!

IX

Endowed with exceeding vigor and power, the singers, the never
flinching, the immovable, the impetuous, the most beloved and most
manly, have decked themselves with their glittering ornaments, a few
only, like the heavens with the stars. When you have seen your way
through the clefts, like birds, O Maruts, on whatever road it be, then
the clouds on your chariots trickle everywhere, and you pour out the
honey-like fatness for him who praises you. At their racings the earth
shakes, as if broken, when on the heavenly paths they harness their deer
for victory. They the sportive, the roaring, with bright spears, the
shakers of the clouds have themselves glorified their greatness. That
youthful company, with their spotted horses, moves by itself; hence it
exercises lordship, invested with powers. Thou indeed art true, thou
searchest out sin, thou art without blemish. Therefore the manly host
will help this prayer. We speak after the kind of our old father, our
tongue goes forth at the sight of the Soma: when the singers had joined
Indra in deed, then only they took their holy names;--these Maruts,
armed with beautiful rings, obtained splendors for their glory, they
obtained rays, and men to celebrate them; nay, armed with daggers,
speeding along, and fearless, they found the beloved domain of the
Maruts.

X

What then now? When will you take us as a dear father takes his son by
both hands, O ye gods, for whom the sacred grass has been trimmed? Where
now? On what errand of yours are you going, in heaven, not on earth?
Where are your cows sporting? Where are your newest favors, O Maruts?
Where the blessings? Where all delights? If you, sons of Prisni, were
mortals, and your praiser an immortal, then never should your praiser be
unwelcome, like a deer in pasture grass, nor should he go on the path of
Yama. Let not one sin after another, difficult to be conquered, overcome
us; may it depart together with greed. Truly they are terrible and
powerful; even to the desert the Rudriyas bring rain that is nev