HYMN V

A charm to mend a broken bone

Aryaman is thy grandsire, Night thy mother, and the Cloud thy
sire.
Thy name is called Silachi. Thou, thyself, art sister of the Gods.
Whoever drinketh thee hath life: thou savest and protectest
man.
As nursing mother of mankind, thou takest all upon thy lap.
Thou clingest close to every tree, as a fond damsel clasps her
love.
Thy name is called The Conqueror, She who Stands Fast, The
Rescuer.
Whatever wound the arrow, or the staff, or violence inflicts,
Thereof thou art the remedy: as such restore this man to health.
Thou springest from blest Plaxa, or Asvattha, Dhava, Khadira,
Parna, or blest Nyagrodha, so come thou to use, Arundhati!
Gold-coloured, bringing happy fate, most lovely, brilliant as the
Sun,
Mayst thou, O Healing! come unto the fracture: Healing is thy
name.
Gold-coloured, bringing happy fate, odorous, hairy-bodied one,
The sister of the Waters art thou, Laksha! and thy soul is Wind.
Silachi is thy name: thy sire, O goat-brown! is a damsel's son.
Thou hast been sprinkled by the mouth of Yama's tawny-
coloured horse.
Issuing from the horse's blood away she glided to the trees.
Become a winged water-brook, and come to us, Arundhati!