NAUGHT is to-day, to-morrow naught. Who comprehends the mystery? We must address ourselves unto another's thought, and lost is then the hope we formed.
The Maruts are thy brothers. Why, O Indra, wouldst thou take our lives? Agree with them in friendly wise, and do not slay us in the fight.
Agastya, brother, why dost thou neglect us, thou who art our friend? We know the nature of thy mind. Verity thou wilt give us naught.
Let them prepare the altar, let them kindle fire in front: we two Here will spread sacrifice for thee, that the Immortal may observe.
Thou, Lord of Wealth, art Master of all treasures, thou, Lord of friends, art thy friends' best supporter. O Indra, speak thou kindly with the Maruts, and taste oblations in their proper season.
