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To The Maruts And Indra





Source: Sacred Books Of The East


The Prologue

The sacrificer speaks:

To what splendor do the Maruts all equally cling, they who are of the
same age, and dwell in the same nest? With what thoughts?--from whence
are they come? Do these heroes sing forth their own strength, wishing
for wealth? Whose prayers have the youths accepted? Who has turned the
Maruts to his own sacrifice? By what strong desire may we arrest them,
they who float through the air like hawks?


The Dialogue

The Maruts speak:

From whence, O Indra, dost thou come alone, thou who art mighty? O lord
of men, what has thus happened to thee? Thou greetest us when thou
comest together with us. Tell us then, thou with thy bay horses, what
thou hast against us!

Indra speaks:

The sacred songs are mine, the prayers; sweet are the libations! My
strength rises, my thunderbolt is hurled forth. They call for me, the
hymns yearn for me. Here are my horses, they carry me hither.

The Maruts speak:

From thence, in company with our strong friends, having adorned our
bodies, we now harness our fallow deer with all our might;--for, Indra,
according to custom, thou hast come to be with us.

Indra speaks:

Where, O Maruts, was that custom with you, when you left me alone in the
killing of Ahi? I indeed am terrible, powerful, strong,--I escaped from
the blows of every enemy.

The Maruts speak:

Thou hast achieved much with us as companions. With equal valor, O hero!
let us achieve then many things, O thou most powerful, O Indra! whatever
we, O Maruts, wish with our mind.

Indra speaks:

I slew Vritra, O Maruts, with Indra's might, having grown powerful
through my own vigor; I, who hold the thunderbolt in my arms, have made
these all-brilliant waters to flow freely for man.

The Maruts speak:

Nothing, O mighty lord, is strong before thee: no one is known among the
gods like unto thee. No one who is now born comes near, no one who has
been born. Do what thou wilt do, thou who art grown so strong.

Indra speaks:

Almighty strength be mine alone, whatever I may do, daring in my heart;
for I indeed, O Maruts, am known as terrible: of all that I threw down,
I, Indra, am the lord.

O Maruts, now your praise has pleased me, the glorious hymn which you
have made for me, ye men!--for me, for Indra, for the joyful hero, as
friends for a friend, for your own sake, and by your own efforts.

Truly, there they are, shining towards me, bringing blameless glory,
bringing food. O Maruts, wherever I have looked for you, you have
appeared to me in bright splendor: appear to me also now!


The Epilogue

The sacrificer speaks:

Who has magnified you here, O Maruts? Come hither, O friends, towards
your friends. Ye brilliant Maruts, welcoming these prayers, be mindful
of these my rites. The wisdom of Manya has brought us hither, that he
should help as the poet helps the performer of a sacrifice: turn hither
quickly! Maruts, on to the sage! the singer has recited these prayers
for you. May this your praise, O Maruts, this song of Mandarya, the son
of Mana, the poet, bring offspring for ourselves with food. May we have
an invigorating autumn, with quickening rain.





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Previous: To The Maruts



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