E.W.

VEDIC HYMNS

TO THE UNKNOWN GOD

In the beginning there arose the Golden Child.  As soon as born, he alone was the lord of all that is.  He established the earth and this heaven:—­Who is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifice?

He who gives breath, he who gives strength, whose command all the bright gods revere, whose shadow is immortality, whose shadow is death:—­Who is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifice?

He who through his might became the sole king of the breathing 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 suppliant:  it rushed freely from our hands as our speeches are wont to do.