Lo, a Rudrian word, straight and stark, he uttereth— even he whose tongue is sweet in men's ears, who by thought alone contendeth in skill.
This word, made ready to yield, shall lead him aright o’er father and mother, and on the fifth day, o’er the seven hotar-priests as well.

He, as the champion in contest, standeth forth to bestow— Cyavāna marked his altar with the sweet lees, but Tūrvayāṇa, whose speech was fairest, poured his seed enduring as a river’s rush.

To his call, ye Aśvins, hasten swift, winning words that flare forth like sharpened wit, for he, full of manhood, arrows in hand, brought down his aim with force fulfilled.

When Night, black-shrouded, sitteth among Dawn’s ruddy kine, then, O Aśvins, I call on you, sons of Heaven.

Follow my rite, draw nigh to my meat, as victors to feasting, as those never beguiled.

He whose manhood stretched and poured forth— he withdrew then, the mighty one, from her who had drawn his seed;
and again he reft from the maid, his own daughter, that which had taken root—he, unshaken and high.

When the deed was yet in its midst—
at the moment of mingling, father with maiden— as they broke off, a drop of seed was left behind, spilt on her back, and within her womb,
amidst the well-wrought sacrifice.

When the sire leapt upon his own daughter, joining with her, he poured forth his seed upon earth.

Then the gods, sorely troubled, begat a sacred word, and from that fashioning rose the Lord of the House, upholder of law.

As a bull in a bout, he cast off his foam.
She, unheeding, fled here and yon, twisting away like the Gift-Cow on foot.
Said he, “My fondlings have not held her fast.”

Forthwith came the tread of the child, Agni, like a steed at gallop; he sat by the udder as a naked man seeks warmth by the flame.
He won the kindling-stick and seized the prize; he was born a bearer, strong in strife.

Then came the Navagvas to the maid’s fellowship, true-speaking to the yoking of truth.

Though they lacked the Gift-Cow, they strove to draw from the steadfast stones the milk of the locked-away one.

They turned again to the maid’s bond and the seed— a bounty, sheer truth—thy burning bequest.

Won by sacrifice, it flowed forth as milk from the red-hued dam whose sap is strength.

When they marked their sundering from the kine, he spake, bestowing gifts through speech:

“By the grace of the gracious, the singers are pure.
He holdeth sway o’er all moving wealth—even the herds.”

They gathered as besiegers, long in counsel, to rend the stronghold of Nr̥ṣada.

Then was laid bare what was bound and hidden, of Śuṣṇa, who was scattered in many wise.

He is named “Brightness,” to whom the gods belong, set in triple seat like unto the sun.

He is called Agni Jātavedas.
Hearken to us, O Flame, O true Hotar, devoid of guile.

And these twin sons of Rudra, the Nāsatyas, who hold the chant, let me hail and offer to, O Indra— the twain who reward him, like Manus of old, who bringeth twisted holy grass, for whom fair offerings are arrayed,
and who seek sacrifice among the tribes.

This king here praised hath been sung as a rite-knower, a seer who fords the waters by bridge of his own making.

He shaketh Kakṣīvant and even Agni, as the wheel-rim is shaken by a fleet-footed steed.

He of dual stock, the son of Vitaraṇa, shall milk the cow of sap, though barren of birth, as I weave hymns round Mitra and Varuṇa, and hedge Aryaman with the foremost shields.

The sponsor of this house, setting his mind in heaven, even Nābhānediṣṭha, muttereth in quest:

“Is this navel of ours the highest, or his?
I was the so-and-so-eth after that one.”

Agni spake: “Here is my navel, here my seat.
These gods are mine, and I am the whole— twice-born, first-born of truth.

This earth the cow gave as milk when she was born.” Now among the tribes doth the wheel with spokes, glad and far-shining, let slip its hold— double-tracked, victorious within the trees.
When the child of the house standeth straight, then the mother beareth the stalwart one, who waxeth strong by kindly deeds.

Now go forth the kine of the maiden, drawn by the largess of one fat with treasure.
Give ear, ye that have good goods;
sacrifice! For I have grown full in the bounty of Āśvaghna.

Now thou, Indra—mark us for wealth,
O lord of men, mace in hand.
Shield our givers, watch o’er our blameless patrons, thou lord of tawny steeds.

Now, ye twain Mitra and Varuṇa, or ye Aśvins— when the seeker of kine rouseth and hasteneth to the bard, the dear seer—he, being theirs,
shall lift them up and bear them across.

Now, at the blooming of him well-born, we, calling as we will, make this our plea— Thou, his son, art the hasting horse and the seer, even in the winning of fame.

If for the fellowship of you twain, we, his band, in reverence, find joy in his hymn— he, in whom all songs meet, like roads in a land, who serveth for the sake of gift—

He, sung by the waters, with gods at his side, is of high birth. With awe and with song, with hallowed speech, he giveth strength— for now is he come.

The rite flows from the milk of the red maid.

O gods, meet for sacrifice, draw nigh and lend us great aid,
ye who, now going forth, brought prize and sight, ye watchers who cannot be deceived.