Victor of a hundred battles, Arjun came with conquering steed,
Vyasa, herald of the Vedas, bade the holy rite proceed:
“For the day is come, Yudhishthir, let the sacrifice be done,
Let the priests repeat the mantra golden as the morning sun!
Threefold bounteous be thy presents, and a threefold merit gain,
For thy wealth of gold is ample, freely thy dakshina rain!
May the threefold rich performance purify the darkening stain,
Blood of warriors and of kinsmen slaughtered on the gory plain!
May the yajna's pure ablution wash thee of the cruel sin,
And the meed of sacrificers may the good Yudhishthir win!”
Vyasa spake; and good Yudhishthir took the diksha of the rite,
And commenced the aswa-medha gladdening every living wight,
Round the altar's holy lustre moved the priests with sacred awe,
Swerved not from the rule of duty, failed not in the sacred law.
Done the rite of pure pravargya with the pious hymn and lay,
To the task of abhishava priests and Brahmans led the way,
And the holy Soma-drinkers pressed the sacred Soma plant,
And performed the pure savana with the solemn saman chant.
Bounty waits on squalid hunger, gifts dispel the timid fear,
Gold revives the poor and lowly, mercy wipes the mourner's tear,