athing and
twinkling world, who governs all this, man and beast:--Who is the God to
whom we shall offer sacrifice?

He through whose might these snowy mountains are, and the sea, they say,
with the distant river; he of whom these regions are indeed the two
arms:--Who is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifice?

He through whom the awful heaven and the earth were made fast, he
through whom the ether was established, and the firmament; he who
measured the air in the sky:--Who is the God to whom we shall offer
sacrifice?

He to whom heaven and earth, standing firm by his will, look up,
trembling in their mind; he over whom the risen sun shines forth:--Who
is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifice?

When the great waters went everywhere, holding the germ, and generating
light, then there arose from them the breath of the gods:--Who is the
God to whom we shall offer sacrifice?

He who by his might looked even over the waters which held power and
generated the sacrifice, he who alone is God above all gods:--Who is the
God to whom we shall offer sacrifice?

May he not hurt us, he who is the begetter of the earth, or he, the
righteous, who begat the heaven; he who also begat the bright and mighty
waters:--Who is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifice?

Pragapati, no other than thou embraces all these created things. May
that be ours which we desire when sacrificing to thee: may we be lords
of wealth!

TO THE MARUTS[1]

I

Come hither, Maruts, on your chariots charged with lightning, resounding
with beautiful songs, stored with spears, and winged with horses! Fly to
us like birds, with your best food, you mighty ones! They come
gloriously on their red, or, it may be, on their tawny horses which
hasten their chariots. He who holds the axe is brilliant like
gold;--with the tire of the chariot they have struck the earth. On your
bodies there are daggers for beauty; may they stir up our minds as they
stir up the forests. For yourselves, O well-born Maruts, the vigorous
among you shake the stone for distilling Soma. Days went round you and
came back, O hawks, back to this prayer, and to this sacred rite; the
Gotamas making prayer with songs, pushed up the lid of the cloud to
drink. No such hymn was ever known as this which Gotama sounded for you,
O Maruts, when he saw you on golden wheels, wild boars rushing about
with iron tusks. This comforting speech rushes sounding towards you,
like the speech of a suppli