Against the Enemies of Brahmans

This cow the gods did not give thee to eat, O king. Do not desire, O prince to devour the cow of the Brahman, that is not fit to be eaten.

A prince, cheated by dice, the wretched, self-ruined, may by chance devour the cow of a Brahman, thinking, "let me live today, if not tomorrow".

Enveloped in its skin, the cow of the Brahman, like a poisonous snake, O prince, is sapless, not to be consumed!

Verily does it take away a prince's regal powers, destroys this splendour, like all-consuming fire. He who thinks Brahman to be food, he swallows then poison of the taimata snake.

He who slays a Brahman, thinking him gentle, he who insults the gods, lusts after riches, in his heart Indra kindles a fire, he is hated both by heaven and earth while he lives.

The Brahman is not to be harmed like fire, by any one who regards his own body dear. For Soma is his heir and Indra protects him against hostility.

He who swallows down a Brahman's cow, he does with a hundred barbs, he cannot digest it, he is a fool who devouring a Brahman's food thinks, "I am eating what is luscious".

Then the Brahman's tongue becomes a bow-string, his voice a neck of an arrow, his teeth shafts tipped with fire. With these he would pierce those who insult gods, with bows powered to reach the heart, sped by the gods.

The Brahmans have sharp arrows and missiles, the weapons they hurl are never in vain. Pursuing him with fervour and fury, even from distance, they pierce him down.

They who were lords of a thousand and were themselves ten hundreds, the Vailahavya, having eaten the cow of the Brahman, perished.

Verily Agni is our guide. Soma our heir, Indra the slayer of those who curse us. The sages know it.

Like an arrow dipped in poison, O king of men, like an adder, O lord of cattle, is the terrible arrow of the Brahman. With it he pierces those who insult gods.

To the Battle Drum

The loud-sounding battle-drum, enthusing the warriors, made of the wood, covered with the skin of the cow, whetting the voice, subduing the foemen, thunder thou loudly against them like a lion, sure of triumph.

The wooden drum has thundered like a lion, has roared like a bull at a cow longing to mate. Thou art the bull and eunuches art the enemies, endowed with Indra's overpowering fire!

Like a bull found in a herd, seeking cows, bellow at the enemy, O winner of booty, pierce thou their heart with fire. Let our foes, with their ranks broken, run and scatter.

Conquering the enemy, raise thy roar. Do thou seize that is to be seized, roar in many places. Favour us O drum, with thy heavenly sound. Bring to us the possession of our enemy!

Hearing thy roar, O drum, that reaches to a far distance, let the enemy's wife aroused by the sound, run in distress to her son, and seizing him by the hand flee, frightened at the clash of deadly weapons.

Mayst thou, O drum, sound the first sound, speak brilliantly over the back of the earth. Open thy wide maw at the enemy host, resounding joyously, O drum!

May thy sound spread out quickly to every side between this heaven and earth. Sound thou, roar swiftly, thunder with resounding noise at thy friend's victory, having chosen the right side!

Made with care may thy sound swell forth, inspire the weapons of the warriors. Allied with Indra, call hither the warriors, and with thy friends smite down the enemy!

Thou art a resounding herald, followed by a bold army, proclaiming news in many places, sounding through the hamlets, winning battles, knowing the way, do thou distribute fame among many in the battlefield!

Aiming at the advantage, conquering booty, O very mighty, subduing the enemy host, thou art made sharp by my song. Do thou, O drum, dance on the booty like a pressing stone on the stoma-stalks!

Subduer of foemen, conquering, over-powering the enemy, eager for fight, overwhelming in victory, spread forth thy sound like a speaker's speech. Speak forth here with force for victory in the fray!

Shaking the unshaken, hastening to the fray, conqueror of the foe, an unconquerable commander in the front, protected by Indra, attending the army, go thou quickly, crushing the hearts of foemen!

Against Fever (Takman)

May Agni drive away the takman from here may Soma, the press-stone, Varuna of proved skill, the sacrificial altar, the sacred straw, the brightly-flaming fuel drive him away and the hateful things.

Thou that makest all men pale, heating them up like a fire, even now, O takman, mayest thou become powerless. Do thou now go away down or into the depths!

The takman that is here, spotted, speckled, reddish, him thou O plant, of great power, drive away down the depths!