Rig Veda

Mandal - 1 (Part - 1)

HYMN 168. Maruts

1

SWIFT gain is his who hath you near at every rite: ye welcome every song of himwho serves the
Gods.
So may I turn you hither with fair hymns of praise to give great succour for the weal of both the
worlds.

2

Surrounding, as it were, self-born, self-powerful, they spring to life the shakers-down of food and
light;
Like as the countess undulations of the floods, worthy of praise when near, like bullocks and like
kine.

3

They who, like Somas with their well-grown stalks pressed out, imbibed within the heart, dwell
there in friendly wise.
Upon their shoulders rests as 'twere a warrior's spear and in their hand they hold a dagger and a
ring.

4

Self-yoked they have descended lightly from the sky. With your own lash, Immortals, urge
yourselve's to speed.
Unstained by dust the Maruts, mighty in their strength, have cast down e'en firm things, armed with their shining spears.

5

Who among you, O Maruts armed with lightning-spears, moveth you by himself, as with the tongue
his jaws?
Ye rush from heaven's floor as though ye sought for food, on many errands like the Sun's diurnal
Steed.

6

Say where, then, is this mighty region's farthest bound, where, Maruts, is the lowest depth that ye
have reached,
When ye cast down like chaff the firmly stablished pile, and from the mountain send the glittering
water-flood?

7

Your winning is with strength, dazzling, with heavenly light, with fruit mature, O Maruts, fall of
plenteousness.
Auspicious is your gift like a free giver's meed, victorious, spreading far, as of immortal Gods.

8

The rivers roar before your chariot fellies when they are uttering the voice of rain-clouds.
The lightnings laugh upon the earth beneath them, what time the Maruts scatter forth their fatness.

9

Prani brought forth, to fight the mighty battle, the glittering army of the restless Maruts.
Nurtured together they begat the monster, and then looked round them for the food that
strengthens.

10

May this your laud, may this your song O Maruts, sung by the poet Mana's son,
Mandarya,
Bring offspring for ourselves with food to feed us. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.