Rig Veda 1.168

yajñā yajñā vaḥ samanā tuturvaṇir dhiyaṃ dhiyaṃ vo devayā u dadhidhve ā vo 'rvācaḥ suvitāya rodasyor mahe vavṛtyām avase suvṛktibhiḥ

Swift gain is his who hath you near at every rite: ye welcome every song of him who serves the Gods. So may I turn you hither with fair hymns of praise to give great succour for the weal of both the worlds.

This verse is not included in this edition.

Surrounding, as it were, self-born, self-powerful, they spring to life the shakers-down of food and light; Like as the countess undulations of the floods, worthy of praise when near, like bullocks and like kine.

somāso na ye sutās tṛptāṃśavo hṛtsu pītāso duvaso nāsate aiṣām aṃseṣu rambhiṇīva rārabhe hasteṣu khādiś ca kṛtiś ca saṃ dadhe

They who, like Somas with their well-grown stalks pressed out, imbibed within the heart, dwell there in friendly wise. Upon their shoulders rests as 'twere a warrior's spear and in their hand they hold a dagger and a ring.

ava svayuktā diva ā vṛthā yayur amartyāḥ kaśayā codata tmanā areṇavas tuvijātā acucyavur dṛﾱhāni cin maruto bhrājadṛṣṭayaḥ

Self-yoked they have descended lightly from the sky. With your own lash, Immortals, urge yourselves to speed. Unstained by dust the Maruts, mighty in their strength, have cast down e'en firm things, armed with their shining spears.

ko vo 'ntar maruta ṛṣṭividyuto rejati tmanā hanveva jihvayā dhanvacyuta iṣāṃ na yāmani purupraiṣā ahanyo naitaśaḥ

Who among you, O Maruts armed with lightning-spears, moveth you by himself, as with the tongue his jaws? Ye rush from heaven's floor as though ye sought for food, on many errands like the Sun's diurnal Steed.

kva svid asya rajaso mahas paraṃ kvāvaram maruto yasminn āyaya yac cyāvayatha vithureva saṃhitaṃ vy adriṇā patatha tveṣam arṇavam

Say where, then, is this mighty region's farthest bound, where, Maruts, is the lowest depth that ye have reached, When ye cast down like chaff the firmly stablished pile, and from the mountain send the glittering water-flood?

sātir na vo 'mavatī svarvatī tveṣā vipākā marutaḥ pipiṣvatī bhadrā vo rātiḥ pṛṇato na dakṣiṇā pṛthujrayī asuryeva jañjatī

Your winning is with strength, dazzling, with heavenly light, with fruit mature, O Maruts, fall of plenteousness. Auspicious is your gift like a free giver's meed, victorious, spreading far, as of immortal Gods.

prati ṣṭobhanti sindhavaḥ pavibhyo yad abhriyāṃ vācam udīrayanti ava smayanta vidyutaḥ pṛthivyāṃ yadī ghṛtam marutaḥ pruṣṇuvanti

The rivers roar before your chariot fellies when they are uttering the voice of rain-clouds. The lightnings laugh upon the earth beneath them, what time the Maruts scatter forth their fatness.

asūta pṛśnir mahate raṇāya tveṣam ayāsām marutām anīkam te sapsarāso 'janayantābhvam ād it svadhām iṣirām pary apaśyan

Prisni brought forth, to fight the mighty battle, the glittering army of the restless Maruts. Nurtured together they begat the monster, and then looked round them for the food that strengthens.

eṣa va stomo maruta iyaṃ gīr māndāryasya mānyasya kāroḥ eṣā yāsīṣṭa tanve vayāṃ vidyāmeṣaṃ vṛjanaṃ jīradānum

May this your laud, may this your song O Maruts, sung by the poet Mana's son, Mandarya, Bring offspring for ourselves with food to feed us. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.