O BRAHMAṆASPATI, stand up: God-serving men we pray to thee. May they who give good gifts, the Maruts, come to us. Indra, most swift, be thou with them.
O Son of Strength, each mortal calls to thee for aid when spoil of battle waits for him. O Maruts, may this man who loves you well obtain wealth of good steeds and hero might.
May Brahmaṇaspati draw nigh, may Sūnṛtā the Goddess come, And Gods bring to this rite which gives the five-fold gift the Hero, lover of mankind.
He who bestows a noble guerdon on the priest wins fame that never shall decay. For him we offer sacred hero-giving food, peerless and conquering easily.
Now Brahmaṇaspati speaks forth aloud the solemn hymn of praise, Wherein Indra and Varuṇa, Mitra, Aryaman, the Gods, have made their dwelling place.
May we in holy synods, Gods! recite that hymn, peerless, that brings felicity. If you, O Heroes, graciously accept this word, may it obtain all bliss from you.
Who shall approach the pious? who the man whose sacred grass is trimmed? The offerer with his folk advances more and more: he fills his house with precious things.
He amplifies his lordly might, with kings he slays: e’en mid alarms he dwells secure In great or lesser fight none checks him, none subdues,—the wielder of the thunderbolt.
