Sacred Concord

AV 5.18

Atharva Veda · translated by Maurice Bloomfield

the acquisition of auspicious ones. 1. Fly forth from here, O evil mark, vanish from here, fly forth to yonder place! Upon him that hates us do we fasten thee with a brazen hook. 2. The unsavoury mark which flying has alighted upon me, as a creeper upon a tree, that mayest thou put away from us, away from here, O golden-handed (golden-rayed) Savitar (the sun), bestowing goods upon us! 3. Together with the body of the mortal, from his birth, one and a hundred marks are born. Those that are most foul do we drive away from here; the auspicious ones, O Gâtavedas (Agni), do thou hold fast for us! 4. These (marks) here I have separated, as cows scattered upon the heather. The pure marks shall remain, the foul ones I have made to disappear! PRAYERS AND IMPRECATIONS IN THE INTEREST OF THE BRAHMANS.
AV 5.18 · Atharva Veda · 5

Themes in this passage

DeathNaturePrayer

Death in other traditions

The same theme, as Christianity, Islam, Taoism and Hellenism address it.

And the children of Israel spake unto Moses, saying, Behold, we die, we perish, we all perish.
Numbers 17:12 · Bible · Numbers
Lo! thou wilt die, and lo! they will die;
Quran 39:30 · Quran · The Companies
The people do not fear death; to what purpose is it to (try to) frighten them with death? If the people were always in awe of death, and I could always seize those who do wrong, and put them to death, who would dare to do wrong?
Tao Te Ching 74.1 · Tao Te Ching
These words, attended with a shower of tears, The youth address’d to unrelenting ears: “Talk not of life, or ransom (he replies): Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies: In vain a single Trojan sues for grace; But least, the sons of Priam’s hateful race. Die then, my friend! what boots it to deplore? The great, the good Patroclus is no more! He, far thy better, was foredoom’d to die, And thou, dost thou bewail mortality? Seest thou not me, whom nature’s gifts adorn, Sprung from a hero, from a goddess born? The day shall come (which nothing can avert) When by the spear, the arrow, or the dart, By night, or day, by force, or by design, Impending death and certain fate are mine! Die then,”—He said; and as the word he spoke, The fainting stripling sank before the stroke: His hand forgot its grasp, and left the spear, While all his trembling frame confess’d his fear: Sudden, Achilles his broad sword display’d, And buried in his neck the reeking blade. Prone fell the youth; and panting on the land, The gushing purple dyed the thirsty sand. The victor to the stream the carcase gave, And thus insults him, floating on the wave:
Iliad 21.7 · Iliad · 21

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