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To The Maruts And Indra

Books: 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.