The Rig Veda/Mandala 1/Hymn 118

15512The Rig VedaMandala 1, Hymn 118
1. FLYING, with falcons, may your chariot, Asvins, most gracious, bringing friendly
     help, come hither,--
     Your chariot, swifter than the mind of mortal, fleet as the wind, three-seated O ye Mighty.
2. Come to us with your chariot triple seated, three-wheeled, of triple form, that rolleth lightly.
     Fill full our cows, give mettle to our horses, and make each hero son grow strong, O Asvins.
3. With your well-rolling car, descending swiftly, hear this the press-stone's song, ye Wonder-Workers.
     How then have ancient sages said, O Asvins, that ye most swiftly come to stay affliction?
4. O Asvins, let your falcons bear you hither, yoked to your chariot, swift, with flying pinions,
     Which, ever active, like the airy eagles, carry you, O Nasatyas, to the banquet.
5. The youthful Daughter of the Sun, delighting in you, ascended there your chariot, Heroes.
     Borne on their swift wings let your beauteous horses, your birds of ruddy hue, convey you near us.
6. Ye raised up Vandana, strong Wonder-Workers! with great might, and with power ye rescued Rebha.
     From out the sea ye saved the son of Tugra, and gave his youth again unto Cyavana.
7. To Atri, cast down to the fire that scorched him, ye gave, O Asvins, strengthening food and favour.
     Accepting his fair praises with approval, ye gave his eyes again to blinded Kanva.
8. For ancient Sayu in his sore affliction ye caused his cow to swell with milk, O Asvins.
     The quail from her great misery ye delivered, and a new leg for Vispala provided.
9. A white horse, Asvins, ye bestowed on Pedu, a serpent-slaying steed sent down by Indra,
     Loud-neighing, conquering the foe, high-mettled, firm-limbed and vigorous, winning thousand treasures.
10. Such as ye are, O nobly born, O Heroes, we in our trouble call on you for succour.
     Accepting these our songs, for our wellbeing come to us on your chariot treasure-laden.
11. Come unto us combined in love, Nasatyas come with the fresh swift vigour of the falcon.
     Bearing oblations I invoke you, Asvins, at the first break of everlasting morning.