2None who is born or being born, God Visnu, hath reached the utmost limit of thy grandeur. The vast high vault of heaven hast thou supported, and fixed earth's eastern pinnacle securely.

3Rich in sweet food be ye, and rich in milch−kine, with fertile pastures, fain to do men service. Both these worlds, Visnu, hast thou stayed asunder, and firmly fixed the earth with pegs around it.

4Ye have made spacious room for sacrificing by generating Surya, Dawn, and Agni. O Heroes, ye have conquered in your battles even the bull−jawed Dasa's wiles and magic.

5Ye have destroyed, thou, Indra, and thou Visnu, Sambara's nine−and−ninety fenced castles. Ye Twain smote down a hundred times a thousand resistless heroes of the royal Varcin.

6This is the lofty hymn of praise, exalting the Lords of Mighty Stride, the strong and lofty. I laud you in the solemn synods, Visnu: pour ye food on us in our camps, O Indra.

7O Visnu, unto thee my lips cry Vasat! Let this mine offering, Sipivista, please thee. May these my songs of eulogy exalt thee. Preserve us evermore, ye Gods, with blessings.