1Even as the beams of Surya, urging men to speed, they issue forth together, gladdening as they flow, These swift outpourings in long course of holy rites: no form save only Indra shows itself so pure.

2The thought is deeply fixed, the savoury juice is shed; the tongue with joyous sound is stirring in the mouth:

3The bull is bellowing; the cows are coming nigh: the Goddesses approach the God's own resting-place. Onward hath Soma pressed through the sheep's fair bright fleece, and hath, as 'twere, endued a garment newly washed.