The draught, unwithering and sweet, hath been poured unto Agni, he who seeketh out the sun and reacheth the height of heaven.

That he might bear and uphold the world, the gods stretched it wide by power not borrowed, but their own.

The world lay swallowed in shade and hidden deep in dark; then was the sun made plain, when Agni was brought forth.

The gods rejoiced in his fellowship, and Earth and Heaven, and waters, and herbs were glad in him.

Now, stirred by gods meet for the rite, I lift my song to Agni, ageless and high of name, whose beams stretch forth through earth and sky, across the twain world-halves and the broad mid-realm.

He was the first to bear the flame, delightful to the gods,
whom they did anoint with butter and choose to stand as priest.
He made the flying things and those that walk, the still and the stirred, to thrive—Agni Jātavedas.

When thou, Agni Jātavedas, stood at the world’s forefront in thy shining, we roused thee with thought, and hymn, and chant.

Thou becamest meet for the rite, filling the sky and the earth with thy might.

By night, Agni is head of the world;
from him is born the sun, rising early at dawn.
Behold this wise working of the sacrificial gods— the swift one followeth his path, well knowing the way.

He who gleamed bright and fair in fullness of flame, whose womb is heaven—he, the radiant, in him did the gods, warders of flesh,
pour their gift with words well-spoken.

First did the gods beget speech rightly uttered, and after that, the flame, and after that, the gift.
This was their rite, their shield of flesh.
This knoweth Heaven, this knoweth Earth, this the Waters.

The flame the gods begot—Agni—
in whom all beings offered up their gifts, who shot straight and true, scorched both earth and sky with his greatness.

With song and strength, the gods in heaven begot the fire who filleth the world.

And for the world’s sake made him thrice-formed— he who ripeneth all growth and kind.

When the gods meet for the rite set him in heaven as the Sun,
the child of Aditi, and when the twin wanderers came to be,
then first did all living flesh behold the way before them.

For the whole world’s sake the gods made Agni Vaiśvānara a beacon through the days.

He passeth through the gleaming dawns, driving out the dark with his flame.

The gods, wise poets of the rite, begot Agni Vaiśvānara, ageless and shining, the first star, who strayeth not from law, great and high, the watcher of marvels.

With words of power we call Agni Vaiśvānara, the seer who shineth in all places— a god whose greatness doth enwrap the two wide realms, above and below.

I have heard from those before us that there be two paths: one of gods,
and one of men.
All that moveth walketh these together—
all that lieth between the Father and the Mother.

As one, they bear the wanderer, born of the head, touched by thought.
He standeth forth to all beings, withheld not from any,
but gleaming, passeth on his way.

When the lower and the higher do strive with one another, they ask: “Of the two lords of the rite, which among us knoweth all?”
Have our fellows found their joy together?
Have they known the offering?
Who shall speak of it in this place?

“How many flames are there, and how many suns?
How many dawns, and how many waters?”
O forefathers, I speak not with double tongue; O seers, I ask in truth, that I might know.

So long as the fine-maned ones clothe themselves as in the blush of Dawn, O Mātariśvan, so long doth the Brahmin set the flame,
drawing nigh the rite and taking seat beside the bearer of fire.