Mortimer
12-12-2021, 05:47 AM
Rig Veda X.XCVI (Translation by Griffith):
4 As if a lovely ray were laid upon the sky, the golden thunderbolt spread out as in a race. That iron bolt with yellow jaw smote Ahi down. A thousand flames had he who bore the tawny-hued.
5 Thou, thou, when praised by men who sacrificed of old. hadst pleasure in their lauds, O Indra golden-haired. All that befits thy song of praise thou welcomest, the perfect pleasant gift, O Golden-hued from birth.
8 At the swift draught the Soma-drinker waxed in might, the Iron One with yellow beard and yellow hair. He, Lord of Tawny Coursers, Lord of fleet-foot Mares, will bear his Bay Steeds safely over all distress.
9 His yellow-coloured jaws, like ladles move apart, what time, for strength, he makes the yellow-tinted stir, When, while the bowl stands there, he grooms his Tawny Steeds, when he hath drunk strong drink, the sweet juice that he loves.
Rig X. XXIII hymn:
4 With him too is this rain of his that comes like herds: Indra throws drops of moisture on his yellow beard. When the sweet juice is shed he seeks the pleasant place, and stirs the worshipper as wind disturbs the wood.
4 As if a lovely ray were laid upon the sky, the golden thunderbolt spread out as in a race. That iron bolt with yellow jaw smote Ahi down. A thousand flames had he who bore the tawny-hued.
5 Thou, thou, when praised by men who sacrificed of old. hadst pleasure in their lauds, O Indra golden-haired. All that befits thy song of praise thou welcomest, the perfect pleasant gift, O Golden-hued from birth.
8 At the swift draught the Soma-drinker waxed in might, the Iron One with yellow beard and yellow hair. He, Lord of Tawny Coursers, Lord of fleet-foot Mares, will bear his Bay Steeds safely over all distress.
9 His yellow-coloured jaws, like ladles move apart, what time, for strength, he makes the yellow-tinted stir, When, while the bowl stands there, he grooms his Tawny Steeds, when he hath drunk strong drink, the sweet juice that he loves.
Rig X. XXIII hymn:
4 With him too is this rain of his that comes like herds: Indra throws drops of moisture on his yellow beard. When the sweet juice is shed he seeks the pleasant place, and stirs the worshipper as wind disturbs the wood.