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 Mânya 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 Mândârya, the son
of Mâna, the poet, bring offspring for ourselves with food. May we have
an invigorating autumn, with quickening rain.



TO INDRA AND THE MARUTS


Those who stand around him while he moves on, harness the bright red
steed; the lights in heaven shine forth. They harness to the chariot on
each side his two favorite bays, the brown, the bold, who can carry the