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2 This might of theirs hath no one comprehended. True is the crushing word the sage hath uttered, 3 The Footless Maid precedeth footed creatures. Who marketh, Mitra−Varuna, this your doing? 4 We look on him the darling of the Maidens, always advancing, never falling downward, 5 Unbridled Courser, horn but not of horses, neighing he flieth on with back uplifted. 6 May the milch−kine who favour Mamateya prosper in this world him who loves devotion. 7 Gods, Mitra−Varuna, with love and worship, let me make you delight in this oblation.

2 Lord of the clan, who brings us bliss, Strong, Warrior, Slayer of the fiend, 3 Drive Raksasas and foes away, break thou in pieces Vrtra'sjaws: 4 O Indra, beat our foes away, humble the men who challenge us: 5 Baffle the foeman's plan, ward off his weapon who would conquer us.