The smiter of fiends—I cast holy water upon him as victor of the spoil; I call upon him as one doth a faithful friend, that he may stretch wide his sheltering wing.
Agni, whetted and waked, kindled full in accord with our will—let him ward us by day from all harm, and likewise by night.

Thou with jaws of iron, burn first the charmers with thy flame, O Jātavedas, when thou art wholly alight.
Then with thy tongue lay hold of them that bow to folly for their god. Rend the flesh-feeders, and thrust them into thy mouth.

Thou who hast teeth above and below—draw thy jaws together, sharpen them with deadly mind.
Hem them in mid-air, O king, and fall upon the sorcerers with thy biting wrath.

Fit thy shafts upon the bow, O Agni, with holy rite; smear both point and shaft with spell and word.
Let these pierce the hearts of the charmers; break their arms raised against us, blow for blow.

Split the skin of the witch, O Agni; let thy blazing point strike home.
Cleave him at the joints, O Jātavedas; and once he is hewn, let the flesh-feeder, mad for gore, lay him open.

If thou seest him stand still or roam, or soar through the paths of the sky, O Agni Jātavedas— then, as a bowman, strike him with thy bolt, sharpened keen for the deed.

And with thy spears, O Jātavedas, win back what the charmer hath stolen.
Flaming before us ever, O Agni, strike him down. Let the dappled vultures who feast on raw flesh devour him.

Proclaim him here, O Agni—reveal which man is he who worketh these spells.
Take him with thy firebrand, thou youngest god; bring him beneath the eye of him whose eye marketh man.

With thine eye, Agni, guard the rite. Lead it eastward to the kindly gods, O thou foreseeing.
Let not the charmers beguile thee; blaze ever against the demon-born with murderous aim, thou watcher of men.

Look all about, O flame-eyed Agni, and find the demon ‘mongst the tribes.
Shatter his threefold cunning. With thy fire cleave his sides, and hew the root of the charmer into three.

Let the one who striketh truth with falsehood feel thy force threefold, O Agni.
Scorch him before the singer’s face, O Jātavedas; pull him low with flame.

Fix thine eye in the croaker's throat—the voice that harms the true.
As doth Atharvan the priest, let thy godly fire consume the seerless one.

What curses are this day spoken between foes, O Agni—what hard words the hoarse-throated cast forth— what darts spring from the mind’s rage—pierce thou the hearts of the spell-workers with these.

Smite down the charmers with thy heat, O Agni; with thy fire strike the demon-born.
Burn away them that bow to fools, and those who steal breath—burn them ever in thy wrath.

Let the gods cast down the crooked man this day; let his harsh spell recoil on him.
Let his darts strike himself where he is bare; let every god rise against the witch.

He who anointeth himself in men’s red flesh—who feasteth on the horse’s limb— who stealeth the milk of the fruitful cow—strike off their heads, O Agni, with thy blaze.

Let not the sorcerer drink the year’s flow of the red cow’s milk, O thou with the all-seeing eye.
He who would lap the new milk for himself—burn him face-to-face in his weak spot.

Let them drink poison from the kine, these fiends. Let the crooked fall before Aditi.
Let god Savitar give them up; let herbs deny them their share.

From of old, Agni, thou hast crushed these spell-weavers; no demon ever bested thee in battle.
Burn the flesh-feeders down to their roots; let none flee thy holy lance.

Guard us from above, from below, from behind, from before, O Agni.
Let thy unwithering, hottest flames ever burn the speaker of evil.

From every side, O poet with thy craft, shield us all about, O king.
O friend, keep thy fellow safe—as one ageless, bear us mortals toward our grey years.

Thee we set round about us, O god-born poet, as a bulwark, bright with thy gleam by day, smiting the fiend and all his ruin.

With bane and blaze, destroy them with all their wreck.
Burn the demons, O Agni, with thy biting tongues and searing spears.

Burn down the twain charmers, the worm-fed wretches.
Thee I whet—wake now, sure one—with my thought, O fire-wise bard.

Break his flame with thy flame, O Agni, on every side.
Break the strength and manhood of the fiend-born sorcerer.