In the imperishable, highest sky, where the gods themselves have taken their seats, the sacred verses dwell. To truly understand these verses is to know their source; for those who do not, what use are the verses to them? Only those who possess this knowledge gather together in reverence. From the measure of the verse, the wise arranged the world itself, shaping all that moves with even half a verse. Out of this, the manifold, triple-footed Brahman took form, giving life and direction to the four quarters of space. May the blessed one be always rich in goodness, and may blessings flow to us as well. O cow, generous giver of all, graze upon the grass and drink the purest water, sustaining all who move. It was the cow who measured and shaped the waters—sometimes with one foot, sometimes with two, then four, eight, and even nine. Her forms are many, just as the thousand-syllabled verse is the meter of the world, its streams flowing ceaselessly over the ocean. Black-moving forms and tawny birds, clad in water, fly upward to the sky. They cover the one who sits in the seat of truth, and with ghee, they spread the earth, sanctifying it. Among all creatures with feet, she—who moves first—leads the way. Who truly knows her, O Mitra and Varuna? Even the embryo bears her weight. She upholds truth and casts away untruth. Virāj is speech, Virāj is earth, Virāj is the atmosphere, and Virāj is Prajapati. Virāj is also death and became chief among the Sādhyas. All that is past and all that is future are under his control; may my own past and future, too, come under my dominion. From afar, I saw smoke rising, crossing boundaries. The heroes milked the spotted one, and thus the first laws were established. Three hairy ones are seen, each in their season; one is shorn in the turning year. Another, with his powers, surveys all, though the charioteer’s form remains unseen. Speech itself is divided into four measured parts. The wise Brahmans know all four, but three remain hidden, unmoving, while only the fourth is uttered by men. The One is called by many names: Indra, Mitra, Varuṇa, Agni, and even as splendid-winged Garutman. The wise speak of the One as many—Agni, Yama, Mātariśvan—each but a facet of the same truth. Now, turning to the world of healing and protection: That which the healers prepare by hand, manifold in form like a bride ready for her wedding, from its very essence we drive away all that is harmful. With head, nose, and ears, made by witchcraft and gathered in many forms, we drive away its essence. Whether made by a Śūdra, a king, a woman, or priests, let the spell return to its maker, just as a wife returns to her husband, seeking her kin. By this sacred herb, I drive away all witchcraft from the innocent—be it done in the field, among the cattle, or among your people. Let the curse fall upon the one who did evil; let the false oath return to the one who swore it. We send the witchcraft back, so it may strike only its maker. Let the Angirases, facing us, stand as our overseers and priests; let them, too, destroy those spells and witchcrafts, and those who made them. Whoever, with hostile intent, told you to go away—O witchcraft, turn back upon him and do not trouble us, the innocent. Whoever set snares for you, as a craftsman would for a chariot, with cunning—go to him; that is your home, not among these who do not know you. Those who made and used you, skilled in spells and sorcery—now, with this purifying water that turns back witchcraft, we bathe you clean. If I have approached one who is unfortunate, bathed, or bereaved, let all my sins depart, and may wealth remain with me. Whatever name was taken from you, whether given to ancestors or in sacrifice, let the healing plants release you from every sin and message. From divine sin, from ancestral name-taking, from every message and expiation, let the herbs release you by their power, by the Brahman, by the sacred verses, and by the milk of the seers. As the wind scatters dust from the earth, as the cloud is swept from the sky, so, O Brahman, drive away all my misfortune. Depart, crying not, bound like a she-ass; go to your makers, released by the powerful Brahman. This is the path of witchcraft—by it we lead you away. Sent forth, we send you back. Go by this way and break apart, as a barren woman’s procession, manifold and cunning. Go far away on the path of light; make your dwelling elsewhere, away from us. Cross over with the ship, go beyond the difficult places; do not linger—go beyond. As the wind uproots trees, cast them down; do not touch cow, horse, or man among us. Turn back to your makers, O witchcraft, and awaken them to childlessness. Whatever spell has been buried for you—in sacrificial grass, in the cremation ground, in the field, or as a snare or trap, or invoked in the household fire as an offering—may the wise and guiltless overcome it. We have discovered and recognized the enmity that was brought, awakened, and buried. Let what was brought here return to where it came, like a horse, and let the doer of the spell not harm our people. We have iron axes in our house; we know your many forms, O spell. Rise up and depart from here, stranger—what do you seek among us? I will cut off your neck and your feet, O spell. Run away! May Indra and Agni protect us, and all who have offspring among people. May Soma the king, the lords of beings, Mitra, and the Bhūtas grant us mercy. O Bhava and Sarva, be gracious to us for any evil done and for any spell cast; for any wrong, may the divine weapon be as swift as lightning. Whether the spell is two-footed, four-footed, of many forms, or eight-footed—having become a boundary, depart again to a distant place. Smeared, anointed, marked with symbols, bearing all misfortune—depart! Recognize your maker, as a daughter knows her father. Depart, O spell, do not remain; go as if following a wounded track. You are the prey, and the hunter is after you; let him not cut you down. One strikes the former dweller, reclaiming what was given; and another, striking the first, is struck in turn by the next. Hear this word of mine; come from wherever you are. Let the spell return to the one who made it. The killing of the innocent is truly terrible, O spell—do not slay our cow, horse, or man. Wherever you are hidden, from there we raise you up; become lighter than a leaf, and be gone from us.