Rigveda 1.117

ASVINS, your ancient priest invites you hither to gladden you with draughts of meath of Soma. Our gift is on the grass, our song apportioned: with food and strength come hither, O Nâsatyas.

That car of yours, swifter than thought, O Aṣvins, which drawn by brave steeds cometh to the people, Whereon ye seek the dwelling of the pious,– come ye thereon to our abode, O Heroes.

Ye freed sage Atri, whom the Five Tribes honoured, from the strait pit, ye Heroes with his people, Baffling the guiles of the malignant Dasyu, repelling them, ye Mighty in succession.

Rebha the sage, ye mighty Heroes, Aṣvins! whom, like a horse, vile men had sunk in water,– Him, wounded, with your wondrous power ye rescued: your exploits of old time endure for ever.

Ye brought forth Vandana, ye Wonder-Workers, for triumph, like fair gold that hath been buried, Like one who slumbered in destruction's bosom, or like the Sun when dwelling in the darkness.

Kakshîvân, Pajra's son, must laud that exploit of yours, Nâsatyas, Heroes, ye who wander! When from the hoof of your strong horse ye showered a hundred jars of honey for the people.

To Kṛishṇa's son, to Viṣvaka who praised you, O Heroes, ye restored his son Vishṇâpû. To Ghoshâ, living in her father's dwelling, stricken in years, ye gave a husband, Aṣvins.

Rusati, of the mighty people, Aṣvins, ye gave to Ṣyâva of the line of Kaṇva. This deed of yours, ye Strong Ones should be published, that ye gave glory to the son of Nṛishad.

O Aṣvins, wearing many forms at pleasure, on Pedu ye bestowed a fleet-foot courser, Strong, winner of a thousand spoils, resistless the serpent slayer, glorious, triumphant.

These glorious things are yours, ye Bounteous Givers; prayer, praise in both worlds are your habitation. O Aṣvins, when the sons of Paira call you, send strength with nourishment to him who knoweth.

Hymned with the reverence of a son, O Aṣvins ye Swift Ones giving booty to the singer, Glorified by Agastya with devotion, established Vispala again, Nâsatyas.

Ye Sons of Heaven, ye Mighty, whither went ye, sought ye, for his fair praise the home of Kdvya. When, like a pitcher full of gold, O Aṣvins, on the tenth day ye lifted up the buried?

Ye with the aid of your great powers, O Aṣvins, restored to youth the ancient man Chyavâna. The Daughter of the Sun with all her glory, O ye Nâsatyas, chose your car to bear her.

Ye, ever-youthful Ones, again remembered Tugra, according to your ancient manner: With horses brown of hue that flew with swift wings ye brought back Bhujyu from the sea of billows.

The son of Tugra had invoked you, Aṣvins; borne on he went uninjured through the ocean. Ye with your chariot swift as thought, well-harnessed, carried him off, O Mighty Ones, to safety.

The quail had invocated you, O Aṣvins, when from the wolf's devouring jaws ye freed her. With conquering car ye cleft the mountain's ridges: the offspring of Viṣvâch ye killed with poison.

He whom for furnishing a hundred wethers to the she-wolf, his wicked father blinded, To him, Ṛijrâṣva, gave ye eyes, O Aṣvins; light to the blind ye sent for perfect vision.

To bring the blind man joy thus cried the she-wolf: O Aṣvins, O ye Mighty Ones, O Heroes, For me Ṛijrâṣva, like a youthful lover, hath. cut piecemeal one and a hundred wethers.

Great and weal-giving is your aid, O Aṣvins, ye, objects of all thought, made whole the cripple. Purandhi also for this cause invoked you, and ye, O mighty, came to her with succours.

Ye, Wonder-Workers, filled with milk for Ṣayu the milkless cow, emaciated, barren; And by your powers the child of Purumitra ye brought to Vimada to be his consort.

Ploughing and sowing barley, O ye Aṣvins, milking out food for men, ye Wonder-Workers, Blasting away the Dasyu with your trumpet, ye gave far-spreading light unto the Ârya.

Ye brought the horse's head, Aṣvins, and gave it unto Dadhyac the offspring of Atharvan. True, he revealed to you, O WonderWorkers, sweet Soma, Tvashṭar's secret, as your girdle.

O Sages, evermore I crave your favour: be gracious unto all my prayers, O Aṣvins. Grant me, Nâsatyas, riches in abundance, wealth famous and accompanied with children.

With liberal bounty to the weakling's consorts ye, Heroes, gave a son Hiraṇyahasta; And Ṣyâva, cut into three several pieces, ye brougnt to life again, O bounteous Aṣvins.

These your heroic exploits, O ye Aṣvins, done in the days. of old, have men related. May we, addressing prayer to you, ye Mighty, speak with brave sons about us to. the synod.