The Religions of India / Handbooks on the History of Religions, Volume 1, Edited by Morris Jastrow

by Edward Washburn Hopkins

CHAPTER IV.

THE RIG VEDA (CONTINUED).—THE MIDDLE GODS.

Only one of the great atmospheric deities, the gods that preëminently govern the middle sphere between sky and earth, can claim an Aryan lineage. One of the minor gods of the same sphere, the ancient rain-god, also has this antique dignity, but in his case the dignity already is impaired by the strength of a new and greater rival. In the case of the wind-god, on the other hand, there is preserved a deity who was one of the primitive pantheon, belonging, perhaps, not only to the Iranians, but to the Teutons, for V[=a]ta, Wind, may be the Scandinavian Woden. The later mythologists on Indian soil make a distinction between V[=a]ta, wind, and V[=a]yu (from the same root; as in German wehen) and in this distinction one discovers that the old V[=a]ta, who must have been once the wind-god, is now reduced to physical (though sentient) wind, while the newer name represents the higher side of wind as a power lying back of phenomena; and it is this latter conception alone that is utilized in the formation of the Vedic triad of wind, fire, and sun. In short, in the use and application of the two names, there is an exact parallel to the double terminology employed to designate the sun as S[=u]rya and Savitar. Just as S[=u]rya is the older [Greek: hêlios] and sol (acknowledged as a god, yet palpably the physical red body in the sky) contrasted with the interpretation which, by a newer name (Savitar), seeks to differentiate the (sentient) physical from the spiritual, so is V[=a]ta, Woden, replaced and lowered by the loftier conception of V[=a]yu. But, again, just as, when the conception of Savitar is formed, the spiritualizing tendency reverts to S[=u]rya, and makes of him, too, a figure reclothed in the more modern garb of speech, which is invented for Savitar alone; so the retroactive theosophic fancy, after creating V[=a]yu as a divine power underlying phenomenal V[=a]ta, reinvests V[=a]ta also with the garments of V[=a]yu. Thus, finally, the two, who are the result of intellectual differentiation, are again united from a new point of view, and S[=u]rya or Savitar, V[=a]yu or V[=a]ta, are indifferently used to express respectively the whole completed interpretation of the divinity, which is now visible and invisible, sun and sun-god, wind and wind-god. In these pairs there is, as it were, a perspective of Hindu theosophy, and one can trace the god, as a spiritual entity including the physical, back to the physical prototype that once was worshipped as such alone.

In the Rig Veda there are three complete hymns to Wind, none of these being in the family books. In x. 186, the poet calls on Wind to bring health to the worshipper, and to prolong his life. He addresses Wind as 'father and brother and friend,' asking the power that blows to bring him ambrosia, of which Wind has a store. These are rather pretty verses without special theological intent, addressed more to Wind as such than to a spiritual power. The other hymn from the same book is directed to V[=a]ta also, not to V[=a]yu, and though it is loftier in tone and even speaks of V[=a]ta as the soul of the gods, yet is it evident that no consistent mythology has worked upon the purely poetic phraseology, which is occupied merely with describing the rushing of a mighty wind (x. 168). Nevertheless, V[=a]ta is worshipped, as is V[=a]yu, with oblations.

HYMN TO WIND (V[=a]ta).

Now V[=a]ta's chariot's greatness! Breaking goes it,
And thundering is its noise; to heaven it touches,
Goes o'er the earth, cloud[1] making, dust up-rearing;
Then rush together all the forms of V[=a]ta;
To him they come as women to a meeting.
With them conjoint, on the same chariot going,
Is born the god, the king of all creation.
Ne'er sleepeth he when, on his pathway wandering,
He goes through air. The friend is he of waters;
First-born and holy,—where was he created,
And whence arose he? Spirit of gods is V[=a]ta,
Source of creation, goeth where he listeth;
Whose sound is heard, but not his form. This V[=a]ta
Let us with our oblations duly honor.

In times later than the Rig Veda, V[=a]yu interchanges with Indra as representative of the middle sphere; and in the Rig Veda all the hymns of the family books associate him with Indra (vii. 90-92; iv. 47-48). In the first book he is associated thus in the second hymn; while, ib. 134, he has the only remaining complete hymn, though fragments of songs occasionally are found. All of these hymns except the first two simply invite V[=a]yu to come with Indra to the sacrifice, It is V[=a]yu who with Indra obtains the first drink of soma (i. 134. 6). He is spoken of as the artificer's, Tvashtar's, son-in-law, but the allusion is unexplained (viii. 26. 22); he in turn begets the storm-gods (i. 134. 4).

With V[=a]yu is joined Indra, one of the popular gods. These divinities, which are partly of the middle and partly of the lower sphere, may be called the popular gods, yet were the title 'new gods' neither wholly amiss nor quite correct. For, though the popular deities in general, when compared with many for whom a greater antiquity may be claimed, such as the Sun, Varuna, Dyaus, etc., are of more recent growth in dignity, yet there remains a considerable number of divinities, the hymns in whose honor, dating from the latest period, seem to show that the power they celebrate had been but lately admitted into the category of those gods that deserved special worship. Consequently new gods would be a misleading term, as it should be applied to the plainer products of theological speculation and abstraction rather than to Indra and his peers, not to speak of those newest pantheistic gods, as yet unknown. The designation popular must be understood, then, to apply to the gods most frequently, most enthusiastically revered (for in a stricter sense the sun was also a popular god); and reference is had in using this word to the greater power and influence of these gods, which is indicated by the fact that the hymns to Agni and Indra precede all others in the family books, while the Soma-hymns are collected for the most part into one whole book by themselves.

But there is another factor that necessitates a division between the divinities of sun and heaven and the atmospheric and earthly gods which are honored so greatly; and this factor is explanatory of the popularity of these gods. In the case of the older divinities it is the spiritualization of a sole material appearance that is revered; in the case of the popular gods, the material phenomenon is reduced to a minimum, the spirituality behind the phenomenon is exalted, and that spirituality stands not in and for itself, but as a part of a union of spiritualities. Applying this test to the earlier gods the union will be found to be lacking. The sun's spiritual power is united with Indra's, but the sun is as much a physical phenomenon as a spirituality, and always remains so. On the other hand, the equation of Varunic power with Indraic never amalgamated the two; and these are the best instances that can be chosen of the older gods. For in the case of others it is self-evident. Dyaus and Dawn are but material phenomena, slightly spiritualized, but not joined with the spirit-power of others.

Many have been the vain attempts to go behind the returns of Vedic hymnology and reduce Indra, Agni, and Soma to terms of a purely naturalistic religion. It cannot be done. Indra is neither sun, lightning, nor storm; Agni is neither hearth-fire nor celestial fire; Soma is neither planet nor moon.

Each is the transient manifestation of a spirituality lying behind and extending beyond this manifestation. Here alone is the latch-key of the newer, more popular religion. Not merely because Indra was a 'warrior god,' but because Indra and Fire were one; because of the mystery, not because of the appearance, was he made great at the hands of the priests. It is true, as has been said above, that the idol of the warriors was magnified because he was such; but the true cause of the greatness ascribed to him in the hymns lay in the secret of his nature, as it was lauded by the priest, not in his form, as it was seen by the multitude. Neither came first, both worked together; but had it not been for the esoteric wisdom held by the priests in connection with his nature, Indra would have gone the way of other meteorological gods; whereas he became chiefest of the gods, and, as lord of strength, for a time came nearest to the supreme power.

INDRA.

Indra has been identified with 'storm,' with the 'sky,' with the 'year'; also with 'sun' and with 'fire' in general.[2] But if he be taken as he is found in the hymns, it will be noticed at once that he is too stormy to be the sun; too luminous to be the storm; too near to the phenomena of the monsoon to be the year or the sky; too rainy to be fire; too alien from every one thing to be any one thing. He is too celestial to be wholly atmospheric; too atmospheric to be celestial; too earthly to be either. A most tempting solution is that offered by Bergaigne, who sees in Indra sun or lightning. Yet does this explanation not explain all, and it is more satisfactory than others only because it is broader; while it is not yet broad enough. Indra, in Bergaigne's opinion, stands, however, nearer to fire than to sun.[3] But the savant does not rest content with his own explanation: "Indra est peut-être, de tous les dieux védiques, celui qui résiste le plus longtemps à un genre d'analyse qui, appliqué à la plupart des autres, les résout plus ou moins vite en des personnifications des éléments, soit des phénomènes naturels, soit du culte" (ibid. p. 167).

Dyaus' son, Indra, who rides upon the storm and hurls the lightnings with his hands; who 'crashes down from heaven' and 'destroys the strongholds' of heaven and earth; whose greatness 'fills heaven and earth'; whose 'steeds are of red and gold'; who 'speaks in thunder,' and 'is born of waters and cloud'; behind whom ride the storm-gods; with whom Agni (fire) is inseparably connected; who 'frees the waters of heaven from the demon,' and 'gives rain-blessings and wealth' to man—such a god, granted the necessity of a naturalistic interpretation, may well be thought to have been lightning itself originally, which the hymns now represent the god as carrying. But in identifying Indra with the sun there is more difficulty. In none of the early hymns is this suggested, and the texts on which Bergaigne relies besides being late are not always conclusive. "Indra clothes himself with the glory of the sun"; he "sees with the eye of the sun"—such texts prove little when one remembers that the sun is the eye of all the gods, and that to clothe ones' self with solar glory is far from being one with the sun. In one other, albeit a late verse, the expression 'Indra, a sun,' is used; and, relying on such texts, Bergaigne claims that Indra is the sun. But it is evident that this is but one of many passages where Indra by implication is compared to the sun; and comparisons do not indicate allotropy. So, in ii. II. 20, which Bergaigne gives as a parallel, the words say expressly "Indra [did so and so] like a sun."[4] To rest a building so important on a basis so frail is fortunately rare with Bergaigne. It happens here because he is arguing from the assumption that Indra primitively was a general luminary. Hence, instead of building up Indra from early texts, he claims a few late phrases as precious confirmation of his theory.[5] What was Indra may be seen by comparing a few citations such as might easily be amplified from every book in the Rig Veda.

According to the varying fancies of the poets, Indra is armed with stones, clubs, arrows, or the thunderbolt (made for him by the artificer, Tvashtar), of brass or of gold, with many edges and points. Upon a golden chariot he rides to battle, driving two or many red or yellow steeds; he is like the sun in brilliancy, and like the dawn in beauty; he is multiform, and cannot really be described; his divine name is secret; in appearance he is vigorous, huge; he is wise and true and kind; all treasures are his, and he is a wealth-holder, vast as four seas; neither his greatness nor his generosity can be comprehended; mightiest of gods is he, filling the universe; the heavens rest upon his head; earth cannot hold him; earth and heaven tremble at his breath; he is king of all; the mountains are to him as valleys; he goes forth a bull, raging, and rushes through the air, whirling up the dust; he breaks open the rain-containing clouds, and lets the rain pour down; as the Açvins restore the light, so he restores the rain; he is (like) fire born in three places; as the giver of rain which feeds, he creates the plants; he restores or begets Sun and Dawn (after the storm has passed);[6] he creates (in the same way) all things, even heaven and earth; he is associated with Vishnu and P[=u]shan (the sun-gods), with the Açvins, with the Maruts (storm-gods) as his especial followers, and with the artisan Ribhus. With Varuna he is an Adityá, but he is also associated with another group of gods, the Vasus (x. 66. 3), as Vasupati, or 'lord of the Vasus.' He goes with many forms (vi. 47. 18).[7]

The luminous character[8] of Indra, which has caused him to be identified with light-gods, can be understood only when one remembers that in India the rainy season is ushered in by such displays of lightning that the heavens are often illuminated in every direction at once; and not with a succession of flashes, but with contemporaneous ubiquitous sheets of light, so that it appears as if on all sides of the sky there was one lining of united dazzling flame. When it is said that Indra 'placed light in light,' one is not to understand, with Bergaigne, that Indra is identical with the sun, but that in day (light) Indra puts lightning (x. 54. 6; Bergaigne ii. p. 187).

Since Indra's lightning[9] is a form of fire, there is found in this union the first mystic dualism of two distinct gods as one. This comes out more in Agni-worship than in Indra-worship, and will be treated below. The snake or dragon killed by Indra is Vritra, the restrainer, who catches and keeps in the clouds the rain that is falling to earth. He often is called simply the snake, and as the Budhnya Snake, or snake of the cloud-depths, is possibly the Python (=Budh-nya).[10] There is here a touch of primitive belief in an old enemy of man—the serpent! But the Budhnya Snake has been developed in opposite ways, and has contradictory functions.[11]

Indra, however, is no more the lightning than he is the sun. One poet says that he is like the sun;[12] another, that he is like the lightning (viii. 93. 9), which he carries in his arms (viii. 12. 7); another, that he is like the light of dawn (x. 89. 12). So various are the activities, so many the phenomena, that with him first the seer is obliged to look back of all these phenomena and find in them one person; and thus he is the most anthropomorphized of the Vedic gods. He is born of heaven or born of clouds (iv. 18), but that his mother is Aditi is not certain. As the most powerful god Indra is again regarded as the All-god (viii. 98. 1-2). With this final supremacy, that distinction between battle-gods and gods sovereign, which Bergaigne insists upon—the sovereign gods belonging to une conception unitaire de l'ordre du monde (iii. p. 3; ii. p. 167)—fades away. As Varuna became gradually greatest, so did Indra in turn. But Varuna was a philosopher's god, not a warrior's; and Varuna was not double and mystical. So even the priest (Agni) leaves Varuna, and with the warrior takes more pleasure in his twin Indra; of him making an All-god, a greatest god. Varuna is passive; Indra is energetic; but Indra does not struggle for his lordship. Inspired by soma, he smites, triumphs, punishes. Victor already, he descends upon his enemies and with a blow destroys them. It is rarely that he feels the effect of battle; he never doubts its issue.

There is evidence that this supremacy was not gained without contradiction, and the novelty of the last extravagant Indra-worship may be deduced, perhaps, from such passages as viii. 96. 15; and 100. 3, where are expressed doubts in regard to the existence of a real Indra. How late is the worship of the popular Indra, and that it is not originality that causes his hymns to be placed early in each collection, may be judged from the fact that only of Indra (and Agni?) are there idols: viii. 1. 5; iv. 24. 10: "Who gives ten cows for my Indra? When he has slain his foe let (the purchaser) give him to me again."[13] Thus it happens that one rarely finds such poems to Indra as to Dawn and to other earlier deities, but almost always stereotyped descriptions of prowess, and mechanical invitations to come to the altar and reward the hymn-maker. There are few of Indra's many hymns that do not smack of soma and sacrifice. He is a warrior's god exploited by priests; as popularly conceived, a sensual giant, friend, brother, helper of man. One example of poetry, instead of ritualistic verse-making to Indra, has been translated in the introductory chapter. Another, which, if not very inspiring, is at least free from obvious soma-worship—which results in Indra being invoked chiefly to come and drink—is as follows (vi. 30):

Great hath he grown, Indra, for deeds heroic;
Ageless is he alone, alone gives riches;
Beyond the heaven and earth hath Indra stretched him,
The half of him against both worlds together!
So high and great I deem his godly nature;
What he hath stablished there is none impairs it.
Day after day a sun is he conspicuous,
And, wisely strong, divides the wide dominions.
To-day and now (thou makest) the work of rivers,
In that, O Indra, thou hast hewn them pathway.
The hills have bowed them down as were they comrades;
By thee, O wisely strong, are spaces fastened.
'Tis true, like thee, O Indra, is no other,
Nor god nor mortal is more venerable.
Thou slew'st the dragon that the flood encompassed,
Thou didst let out the waters to the ocean.
Thou didst the waters free, the doors wide opening,
Thou, Indra, brak'st the stronghold of the mountains,
Becamest king of all that goes and moveth,
Begetting sun and heaven and dawn together.

THE MARUTS.

These gods, the constant followers of Indra, from the present point of view are not of great importance, except as showing an unadulterated type of nature-gods, worshipped without much esoteric wisdom (although there is a certain amount of mystery in connection with their birth). There is something of the same pleasure in singing to them as is discernible in the hymns to Dawn. They are the real storm-gods, following Rudra, their father, and accompanying the great storm-bringer, Indra. Their mother is the variegated cow Priçni, the mother cloud. Their name means the shining, gleaming ones.

HYMN TO THE MARUTS (vii. 56. 1-10).

Who, sooth, are the gleaming related heroes,
the glory of Rudra, on beauteous chargers?
For of them the birthplace no man hath witnessed;
they only know it, their mutual birthplace.
With wings expanded they sweep each other,[14]
and strive together, the wind-loud falcons.
Wise he that knoweth this secret knowledge,
that Priçni the great one to them was mother.[15]
This folk the Maruts shall make heroic,
victorious ever, increased in manhood;
In speed the swiftest, in light the lightest,
with grace united and fierce in power—
Your power fierce is; your strength, enduring;
and hence with the Maruts this folk is mighty.
Your fury fair is, your hearts are wrothful,
like maniacs wild is your band courageous.
From us keep wholly the gleaming lightning;
let not your anger come here to meet us.
Your names of strong ones endeared invoke I,
that these delighted may joy, O Maruts.

What little reflection or moral significance is in the Marut hymns is illustrated by i. 38. 1-9, thus translated by Müller:

What then now? When will ye take us as a dear father takes his son by both hands, O ye gods, for whom the sacred grass has been trimmed?

Where now? On what errand of yours are you going, in heaven, not on earth? Where are your cows sporting? Where are your newest favors, O Maruts? Where are blessings? Where all delights? If you, sons of Priçni, were mortals and your praiser an immortal, then never should your praiser be unwelcome, like a deer in pasture grass, nor should he go on the path of Yama.[16] Let not one sin after another, difficult to be conquered, overcome us; may it depart, together with greed. Truly they are terrible and powerful; even to the desert the Rudriyas bring rain that is never dried up. The lightning lows like a cow, it follows as a mother follows after her young, when the shower has been let loose. Even by day the Maruts create darkness with the water-bearing cloud, when they drench the earth, etc.

The number of the Maruts was originally seven, afterwards raised to thrice seven, and then given variously,[17] sometimes as high as thrice sixty. They are the servants, the bulls of Dyaus, the glory of Rudra (or perhaps the 'boys of Rudra'), divine, bright as suns, blameless and pure. They cover themselves with shining adornment, chains of gold, gems, and turbans. On their heads are helmets of gold, and in their hands gleam arrows and daggers. Like heroes rushing to battle, they stream onward. They are fair as deer; their roar is like that of lions. The mountains bow before them, thinking themselves to be valleys, and the hills bow down. Good warriors and good steeds are their gifts. They smite, they kill, they rend the rocks, they strip the trees like caterpillars; they rise together, and, like spokes in a wheel, are united in strength. Their female companion is Rodas[=i] (lightning, from the same root as rudra, the 'red'). They are like wild boars, and (like the sun) they have metallic jaws. On their chariots are speckled hides; like birds they spread their wings; they strive in flight with each other. Before them the earth sways like a ship. They dance upon their path. Upon their chests for beauty's sake they bind gold armor. From the heavenly udder they milk down rain. "Through whose wisdom, through whose design do they come?" cries the poet. They have no real adversary. The kings of the forest they tear asunder, and make tremble even the rocks. Their music is heard on every side.[18]

RUDRA.

The father of the Maruts, Rudra, is 'the ruddy one,' par excellence and so to him is ascribed paternity of the 'ruddy ones.' But while Indra has a plurality of hymns, Rudra has but few, and these it is not of special importance to cite. The features in each case are the same. The Maruts remain as gods whose function causes them to be invoked chiefly that they may spare from the fury of the tempest. This idea is in Rudra's case carried out further, and he is specially called on to avert (not only 'cow-slaying' and 'man-slaying' by lightning,[19] but also) disease, pestilence, etc. Hence is he preeminently, on the one hand, the kindly god who averts disease, and, on the other, of destruction in every form. From him Father Manu got wealth and health, and he is the fairest of beings, but, more, he is the strongest god (ii. 33. 3, 10). From such a prototype comes the later god of healing and woe—Rudra, who becomes Çiva.[20]

RAIN-GODS.

There is one rather mechanical hymn directed to the Waters themselves as goddesses, where Indra is the god who gives them passage. But in the unique hymn to the Rivers it is Varuna who, as general god of water, is represented as their patron. In the first hymn the rain-water is meant.[21] A description in somewhat jovial vein of the joy produced by the rain after long drought forms the subject matter of another lyric (less an hymn than a poem), which serves to illustrate the position of the priests at the end of this Vedic collection. The frogs are jocosely compared to priests that have fulfilled their vow of silence; and their quacking is likened to the noise of students learning the Veda. Parjanya is the god that, in distinction from Indra as the first cause, actually pours down the rain-drops.

THE FROGS.[22]

As priests that have their vows fulfilled,
Reposing for a year complete,
The frogs have now begun to talk,—
Parjanya has their voice aroused.

When down the heavenly waters come upon him,
Who like a dry bag lay within the river,
Then, like the cows' loud lowing (cows that calves have),
The vocal sound of frogs comes all together.

When on the longing, thirsty ones it raineth,
(The rainy season having come upon them),
Then akkala![23] they cry; and one the other
Greets with his speech, as sons address a father.

The one the other welcomes, and together
They both rejoice at falling of the waters;
The spotted frog hops when the rain has wet him,
And with his yellow comrade joins his utterance.

When one of these the other's voice repeateth,
Just as a student imitates his teacher,
Then like united members with fair voices,
They all together sing among the waters.

One like an ox doth bellow, goat-like one bleats;
Spotted is one, and one of them is yellow;
Alike in name, but in appearance different,
In many ways the voice they, speaking, vary.

As priests about th' intoxicating[24] soma
Talk as they stand before the well-filled vessel,
So stand ye round about this day once yearly,
On which, O frogs, the time of rain approaches.

(Like) priests who soma have, they raise their voices,
And pray the prayer that once a year is uttered;
(Like) heated priests who sweat at sacrifices,
They all come out, concealed of them is no one.

The sacred order of the (year) twelve-membered,
These heroes guard, and never do neglect it;
When every year, the rainy season coming,
The burning heat receiveth its dismission.[25]

In one hymn no less than four gods are especially invoked for rain—Agni, Brihaspati, Indra, and Parjanya. The two first are sacrificially potent; Brihaspati, especially, gives to the priest the song that has power to bring rain; he comes either 'as Mitra-Varuna or P[=u]shan,' and 'lets Parjanya rain'; while in the same breath Indra is exhorted to send a flood of rain,—rains which are here kept back by the gods,[26]—and Agni is immediately afterwards asked to perform the same favor, apparently as an analogue to the streams of oblation which the priest pours on the fire. Of these gods, the pluvius is Parjanya:

Parjanya loud extol in song,
The fructifying son of heaven;
May he provide us pasturage!
He who the fruitful seed of plants,
Of cows and mares and women forms,
He is the god Parjanya.
For him the melted butter pour
In (Agni's) mouth,—a honeyed sweet,—
And may he constant food bestow![27]

This god is the rain-cloud personified,[28] but he is scarcely to be distinguished, in other places, from Indra; although the latter, as the greater, newer god, is represented rather as causing the rain to flow, while Parjanya pours it down. Like Varuna, Parjanya also upsets a water-barrel, and wets the earth. He is identical with the Slavic Perkuna.

For natural expression, vividness, energy, and beauty, the following hymn is unsurpassed. As a god unjustly driven out of the pantheon, it is, perhaps, only just that he should be exhibited, in contrast to the tone of the sacrificial hymnlet above, in his true light. Occasionally he is paired with Wind; and in the curious tendency of the poets to dualize their divinities, the two become a compound, Parjanyav[=a]t[=a] ("Parjanya and V[=a]ta"). There is, also, vii. 101, one mystic hymn to Parjanya. The following, v. 83, breathes quite a different spirit:[29]

Greet him, the mighty one, with these laudations,
Parjanya praise, and call him humbly hither;
With roar and rattle pours the bull his waters,
And lays his seed in all the plants, a foetus.

He smites the trees, and smites the evil demons, too;
While every creature fears before his mighty blow,
E'en he that hath not sinned, from this strong god retreats,
When smites Parjanya, thundering, those that evil do.
As when a charioteer with whip his horses strikes,
So drives he to the fore his messengers of rain;
Afar a lion's roar is raised abroad, whene'er
Parjanya doth create the rain-containing cloud.
Now forward rush the winds, now gleaming lightnings fall;
Up spring the plants, and thick becomes the shining sky.
For every living thing refreshment is begot,
Whene'er Parjanya's seed makes quick the womb of earth.

Beneath whose course the earth hath bent and bowed her,
Beneath whose course the (kine) behoofed bestir them,
Beneath whose course the plants stand multifarious,
He—thou, Parjanya—grant us great protection!
Bestow Dyaus' rain upon us, O ye Maruts!
Make thick the stream that comes from that strong stallion!
With this thy thunder come thou onward, hither,
Thy waters pouring, a spirit and our father.[30]
Roar forth and thunder! Give the seed of increase!
Drive with thy chariot full of water round us;
The water-bag drag forward, loosed, turned downward;
Let hills and valleys equal be before thee!
Up with the mighty keg! then pour it under!
Let all the loosened streams flow swiftly forward;
Wet heaven and earth with this thy holy fluid;[31]
And fair drink may it be for all our cattle!

When thou with rattle and with roar,
Parjanya, thundering, sinners slayest,
Then all before thee do rejoice,
Whatever creatures live on earth.

Rain hast thou rained, and now do thou restrain it;
The desert, too, hast thou made fit for travel;
The plants hast thou begotten for enjoyment;
And wisdom hast thou found for thy descendants.

The different meters may point to a collection of small hymns. It is to be observed that Parjanya is here the fathergod (of men); he is the Asura, the Spirit; and rain comes from the Shining Sky (Dyaus). How like Varuna!

The rain, to the poet, descends from the sky, and is liable to be caught by the demon, Vritra, whose rain-swollen belly Indra opens with a stroke, and lets fall the rain; or, in the older view just presented, Parjanya makes the cloud that gives the rain—a view united with the descent of rain from the sky (Dyaus). With Parjanya as an Aryan rain-god may be mentioned Trita, who, apparently, was a water-god, [=A]ptya, in general; and some of whose functions Indra has taken. He appears to be the same with the Persian Thraetaona [=A]thwya; but in the Rig Veda he is interesting mainly as a dim survival of the past.[32] The washing out of sins, which appears to be the original conception of Varuna's sin-forgiving,[33] finds an analogue in the fact that sins are cast off upon the innocent waters and upon Trita—also a water-god, and once identified with Varuna (viii. 41. 6). But this notion is so unique and late (only in viii. 47) that Bloomfield is perhaps right in imputing it to the [later] moralizing age of the Br[=a]hmanas, with which the third period of the Rig Veda is quite in touch.

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