end and right. Bring hither (to the
morning sacrifice) the gods" (I. 113).

Since the metre (here ignored) of the following hymn is not all of one
model, it is probable that after the fourth verse a new hymn began,
which was distinct from the first; but the argument from metre is
unconvincing, and in any event both songs are worth citing, since they
show how varied were the images and fancies of the poets: "The Dawns
are like heroes with golden weapons; like red kine of the morning on
the field of heaven; shining they weave their webs of light, like
women active at work; food they bring to the pious worshipper. Like a
dancing girl is the Dawn adorned, and opens freely her bosom; as a cow
gives milk, as a cow comes forth from its stall, so opens she her
breast, so comes she out of the darkness (verses 1-4) ...She is the
ever new, born again and again, adorned always with the same color. As
a player conceals the dice, so keeps she concealed the days of a man;
daughter of Heaven she wakes and drives away her sister (Night). Like
kine, like the waves of a flood, with sunbeams she appears. O rich
Dawn, bring us wealth; harness thy red horses, and bring to us
success" (I. 92). The homage to Dawn is naturally divided at times
with that to the sun: "Fair shines the light of morning; the sun
awakens us to toil; along the path of order goes Dawn arrayed in
light. She extendeth herself in the east, and gleameth till she fills
the sky and earth"; and again: "Dawn is the great work of Varuna and
Mitra; through the sun is she awakened" (I. 124; III. 61. 6-7). In the
ritualistic period Dawn is still mechanically lauded, and her beams
"rise in the east like pillars of sacrifice" (IV. 51. 2); but
otherwise the imagery of the selections given above is that which is
usually employed. The 'three dawns' occasionally referred to are, as
we have shown elsewhere,[98] the three dawn-lights, white, red, and
yellow, as they are seen by both the Vedic poet and the Florentine.

Dawn becomes common and trite after awhile, as do all the gods, and is
invoked more to give than to please. 'Wake us,' cries a later poet,
'Wake us to wealth, O Dawn; give to us, give to us; wake up, lest the
sun burn thee with his light'--a passage (V. 79) which has caused much
learned nonsense to be written on the inimical relations of Sun and
Dawn as portrayed here. The dull idea is that Dawn is lazy, and had
better get up before S[=u]rya catches her asleep. The poet is