is himself a giver of oblations, the Maruts, who gladden men with the
milk of rain, pour out, like friends, many clouds. You who have stirred
up the clouds with might, your horses rushed forth, self-guided. All
beings who dwell in houses are afraid of you, your march is brilliant
with your spears thrust forth. When they whose march is terrible have
caused the rocks to tremble, or when the manly Maruts have shaken the
back of heaven, then every lord of the forest fears at your racing, each
shrub flies out of your way, whirling like chariot-wheels. You, O
terrible Maruts, whose ranks are never broken, favorably fulfil our
prayer! Wherever your glory-toothed lightning bites, it crunches cattle,
like a well-aimed bolt. The Maruts whose gifts are firm, whose bounties
are never ceasing, who do not revile, and who are highly praised at the
sacrifices, they sing their song for to drink the sweet juice: they know
the first manly deeds of the hero Indra. The man whom you have guarded,
O Maruts, shield him with hundredfold strongholds from injury and
mischief--the man whom you, O fearful, powerful singers, protect from
reproach in the prosperity of his children. On your chariots, O Maruts,
there are all good things, strong weapons are piled up clashing against
each other. When you are on your journeys, you carry the rings on your
shoulders, and your axle turns the two wheels at once. In their manly
arms there are many good things, on their chests golden chains, flaring
ornaments, on their shoulders speckled deer-skins, on their fellies
sharp edges; as birds spread their wings, they spread out splendors
behind. They, mighty by might, all-powerful powers, visible from afar
like the heavens with the stars, sweet-toned, soft-tongued singers with
their mouths, the Maruts, united with Indra, shout all around. This is
your greatness, O well-born Maruts!--your bounty extends far, as the
sway of Aditi. Not even Indra in his scorn can injure that bounty, on
whatever man you have bestowed it for his good deeds. This is your
kinship with us, O Maruts, that you, immortals, in former years have