Comrades, sit ye down and lift your song while the radiant draught is strained; with holy gifts attend him, as a tender child is cherisht for his splendor.

Speed him, swift as a calf that runs to its dam, this house-prospering flood whose double rapture hunts the gods and rallies them to our side.

Cleanse the skill-bringer, that he may pursue the rushing host and stand full gracious to Mitra and to Varuṇa.

Our voices hail thee, treasure-finder; with the milk of our kine we shall robe thy hue.

O potent drop, lord of all delight, joy-giver to the immortals—be to us as true friend to friend, the surest guide upon the hidden way.

Cast far from us, with all their gear, whatever fiend would glut himself upon our store; thrust back the faithless, god-forsaking cheat, and bar the narrow pass against his tread.