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1. STREWN is the sacred grass; come Vayu,
to our feast, with team of thousands, come, Lord of the harnessed team, with
hundreds, Lord of harnessed steeds!
The drops divine are lifted up for thee, the God, to drink
them first.
The juices rich in sweets have raised thern for thy joy,
have raised themselves to give thee strength.
2 Purified by the stones the Soma flows for
thee, clothed with its lovely splendours, to the reservoir, flows clad in its
refulgent light.
For thee the Soma is poured forth, thy portioned share mid.
Gods and men.
Drive thou thy horses, Vayu, come to us with love, come
well-inclined and loving us.
3 Come thou with hundreds, come with
thousands in thy team to this our solemn rite, to taste the sacred food, Vayu,
to taste the offerings.
This is thy seasonable share, that comes co-radiant with the
Sun.
Brought by attendant priests pure juice is offered up, Vayu,
pure juice is offered up.
4 The chariot with its team of horses bring
you both, to guard us and to taste the well-appointed food, Vayu, to taste the
offerings!
Drink of the pleasant -flavoured juice the first draught is
assigned to you.
O Vayu, with your splendid bounty come ye both, Indra, with
bounty come ye both.
5 May our songs bring you hither to our
solemn rites: these drops of mighty vigour have they beauti fied, like a swift
veed of mighty strength.
Drink of them well-inclined to us, come hitherward to be our
help.
Drink, Indra-Vayu, of these Juices pressed with stones,
Strength-givers! till they gladden you.
6 These Soma juices pressed for you in
waters here, borne by attendant priests, are oficredup to you: bright, Vayu,
are they offered up.
Swift through the strainer have they flowed, and here are
shed for both ofyou,
Soma-drops, fain for you, over the wether's fleece, Somas
over the wether's fleece.
7 O Vayu, pass thou over all the,slumberers,
and where the press-stone rings enter ye both that house, yea, Indra, go ye
both within.
The joyous Maiden is beheld, the butter flows. With richly
laden team come to our solemn rite, yea, Indra, come ye to the rite.
8 Ride hither to the offering of the
pleasant juice, the holy Fig-tree which victorious priests surround: victorious
be they still for us.
At once the cows yield milk, the barleymeal is dressed. For
thee,
O Vayu, never shall the cows grow thin, never for thee shall
they be dry.
9 These Bulls of thine, O Vayu with the arm
of strength, who swiftly fly within the current of thy stream, the Bulls
increasing in their might,
Horseless, yet even through the waste swift-moving, whom no
shout can stay,
Hard to be checked are they, like sunbeams, in their course.
hard to be checked by both the hands.
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