Atharva Veda · 190 of 724

HYMN XXII

To the Maruts or Storm-Gods 1. Dark the descent; the strong-winged birds are golden: they fly    aloft to heaven, enrobed in waters.   They have come hither from the seat of Order, and inundated    earth with streams of fatness. 2. Ye make floods rich in milk, make plants propitious, what time    ye stir, O golden-breasted Maruts!   Pour down your showers of vigorous strength and favour there    where ye sprinkle mead, O Maruts, heroes! 3. O Maruts, send ye down, streaming with water rain which, may,    filling all the sloping valleys,   Leap like a bold girl in a man’s embraces, or like a matron    tumbled by her husband.