Sama Veda

THE SAMA VEDA
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Strengthening e'en the feeble, thou aidest the sacrificer, thou givest great wealth to him who pours.
3. When war and battles are on foot, booty is offered to the bold.
Yoke thou thy wildly-rushing bays! Whom wilt thou slay, and whom enrich? Do thou, O Indra, make
us rich!
XV Indra
I. The juice of Soma thus diffused, sweet to the taste, the bright cows drink,
Who travelling in splendour close to mighty Indra's side rejoice, good in their own supremacy.
2. Craving his touch the dappled kine mingle the Soma with their milk.
The milch-kine dear to Indra send forth his death dealing thunder-bolt, good in their own supremacy.
3. With veneration, passing wise, they honour his victorious might.
They follow close his many laws to win them due preeminence, good in their own supremacy.
XVI Soma Pavamana
1. Strong, mountain-born, the stalk hath been pressed in the streams for rapturous joy.
Hawk-like he settles in his home.
2. Fair is the juice beloved of Gods, washed in the waters, pressed by men:
The milch kine sweeten it with milk
3. Then, like a steed, have they adorned the inciter for eternal life,
The meath's juice at the festival.
XVII Soma Pavamana
1. Make high and splendid glory shine hitherward, Lord of food, God, on the friend of Gods
Unclose the cask of middle air
2. Roll onward from the press, O mighty one, effused, as kings, supporter of the tribes
Pour on us rain from heaven, send us the water's flow, urging our thoughts to win the spoil!
XVIII Soma Pavamana
1. Breath of the mighty Dames, the Child, speeding the plan of sacrifice,
Surpasses all things that are dear, yea, from of old.
2. The place that is concealed hath gained a share of Trita's pressing-stones,
By the seven laws of sacrifice, even that dear place.
3. He hath sent forth unto the heights the three, in stream, as Trita's wealth:
He who is passing wise measures his pathways out.
XIX Soma Pavamana
1. Flow to the filter with thy stream, effused, to win us spoil and wealth,
Soma exceeding rich in meath for Indra, Vishnu, and the Gods
2. The hymns that know not guile, caress thee, golden-coloured, in the sieve.
As mothers, Pavamana, lick the new-born calf, as Law commands.
3. Lord of great sway, thou liftest thee above the heavens, above the earth.
Thou, of Pavamana, hast assumed thy coat of mail with majesty.
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