HYMN XCVIII. The Gods.

Rig Veda, tr. by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1896], at sacred-texts.com

HYMN XCVIII. The Gods.

1. COME, be thou Mitra, Varuṇa, or Pūṣan, come, O Bṛhaspati, to mine oblation:
With Maruts, Vasus, or Ādityas, make thou Parjanya pour for Santanu his rain-drops.
2 The God, intelligent, the speedy envoy whom thou hast sent hath come to me, Devapi:
Address thyself to me and turn thee hither within thy lips will I put brilliant language.
3 Within my mouth, Bṛhaspati, deposit speech lucid, vigorous, and free from weakness,
Thereby to win for Santanu the rain-fall. The meath-rich drop from heaven hath passed within it.
4 Let the sweet drops descend on us, O Indra: give us enough to lade a thousand wagons.
Sit to thy Hotar task; pay worship duly, and serve the Gods, Devapi, with oblation.
5 Knowing the God's good-will, Devapi, Ṛṣi, the son of Rstisena, sate as Hotar.
He hath brought down from heaven's most lofty summit the ocean of the rain, celestial waters.
6 Gathered together in that highest ocean, the waters stood by deities obstructed.
They burried down set free by Arstisena, in gaping clefts, urged onward by Devapi.
7 When as chief priest for Santanu, Devapi, chosen for Hotar's duty, prayed beseeching,
Graciously pleased Bṛhaspati vouchsafed him a voice that reached the Gods and won the waters.
8 O Agni whom Devapi Arstisena, the mortal man, hath kindled in his glory,
Joying in him with all the Gods together, urge on the sender of the rain, Parjanya.
9 All ancient Ṛṣis with their songs approached thee, even thee, O Much-invoked, at sacrifices.
We have provided wagon-loads in thousands: come to the solemn rite, Lord of Red Horses.
10 The wagon-loads, the nine-and-ninety thousand, these have been offered up to thee, O Agni.
Hero, with these increase thy many bodies, and, stimulated, send us rain from heaven.
11 Give thou these ninety thousand loads, O Agni, to Indra, to the Bull, to be his portion.
Knowing the paths which Deities duly travel, set mid the Gods in heaven Aulana also.
12 O Agni, drive afar our foes, our troubles chase malady away and wicked demons.
From this air-ocean, from the lofty heavens, send down on us a mighty flood of waters.