Hymns of the Atharva Veda, by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1895], at sacred-texts.com
1Indra the Shaker shake them up, brave, hero, fortdemolisher,
That into thousand fragments we may strike the armies of our
foes!
2Let Pūtirajju with her breath corrupt and putrefy that host,
And terror smite our foemen's heart when fire and smoke are
seen afar.
3Asvattha, rend those men; do thou devour them quickly,
Khadira!
Like reeds let them be broken through, down-smitten by a lifted
rush.
4Let Parushāhva make them reeds, and let the bulrush strike
them down:
Bound in a mighty net let them break quickly like an arrow's
shaft.
5Air was the net; the poles thereof were the great quarters of the
sky: p. a344
Sakra therewith enveloped and cast on the ground the Dasyus'
host.
6Verily mighty is the net of mighty Sakra rich in wealth:
Therewith press all the foemen down so that not one of them
escape!
7Great is thy net, brave Indra, thine the mighty match for a
thousand, Lord of Hundred Powers!
Holding them, with his host, therewith hath Indra slaughtered
Dasyus a hundred, thousand, myriad, hundred millions.
8This world so mighty was the net of Sakra, of the Mighty One:
With this, the net of Indra, I envelop all those men with gloom.
9Great weakness and misfortune, pain which words can never
charm away,
Languor, fatigue, bewilderment, with these I compass all the
foes.
10I give those foemen up to Death: bound in the bonds of Death
are they.
I bind and carry them away to meet Death's wicked messengers.
11Bear them away, Death's messengers! envoys of Yama! bind
them fast.
More than a thousand be their slain: the club of Bhava pierce
them through!
12Forth go the Sādhyas in their might bearing one netpole raised
aloft.
One pole the Rudras carry, one the Vasus, and the Ādityas one.
13The Visve Devas from above shall come depressing it with
might,
And in the midst the Angirases, slaying the mighty host, shall go.
14Trees of the forest, trees that bear flower and fruit, and herbs
and plants,
Quadruped, biped send I forth that they may strike this army
dead,
15Gandharvas, and Apsarases, Gods, Serpents, Fathers, Holy
Men,
Seen and unseen, I send them forth that they may strike this
army dead.
16Here spread are snares of Death wherefrom thou, once within
them, ne'er art freed:
Full many a thousand of the host yonder this horn shall smite
and slay. p. a345
17The Gharma hath been warmed with fire: this Homa slays a
thousand men.
Let Bhava, Prisnibāhu, and Sarva destroy that armament.
18Their portion be the fire of Death, hunger, exhaustion, slaughter,
fear.
With your entangling snares and nets, Sarva and Indra! slay that
host.
19Fly, conquered, in alarm, ye foes, run driven by the spell away!
Let not one man escape of those when routed by Brihaspati.
20Down fall their weapons on the ground: no strength be theirs
to point a shaft:
Then in their dreadful terror let their arrows wound their vital
parts.
21Let Heaven and Earth roar out in wrath against them, and Air
with all the Deities in concert,
Let them not find a surety or a refuge, but torn away go down
to Death together.
22The mules of the Gods' car are heaven's four quarters; their
hooves are sacred cakes, the air its body.
Its sides are Heaven and Earth, its reins the Seasons, Voice is its
hood, its grooms are sky's mid-regions.
23Year is the car, Full Year the seat for driving, Virāj the pole,
the chariot's front is Agni, Indra the warrior, and the Moon
the driver.
24Hence conquer, conquer, Hail! be thou the victor! Let these be
conquerors and those be conquered.
Good luck to these, ill luck to those men yonder! With the
dark-blue-and-red our foes I cover.