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Thou whom Vasistha's[97] sons extol with praises, Fair-born Aurora, daughter of Dyaus, the bright one, On us bestow thou riches high and mighty, - all ye gods with weal forever guard us.
In the laudation of Varuna the fancy of the poet exhausts itself in lofty imagery, and reaches the topmost height of Vedic religious lyric. In the praise of Dawn it descends not lower than to interweave beauty with dignity of utterance. Nothing in religious poetry more graceful or delicate than the Vedic Dawn-hymns has ever been written. In the daily vision of Dawn following her sister Night the poet sees his fairest goddess, and in his worship of her there is love and admiration, such as is evoked by the sight of no other deity. "She comes like a fair young maiden, awakening all to labor, with an hundred chariots comes she, and brings the shining light; gleam forth, O Dawn, and give us thy blessing this day; for in thee is the life of every living creature. Even as thou hast rewarded the singers of old, so now reward our song" (1. 48).
The kine of Dawn are the bright clouds that, like red cattle, wander in droves upon the horizon. Sometimes the rays of light, which stretch across the heaven, are intended by this image, for the cattle-herding poets employed their flocks as figures for various ends.
The inevitable selfish pessimism of unripe reflection is also woven into the later Dawnhymns: "How long will it be ere this Dawn, too, shall join the Dawns departed? Vanished are now the men that saw the Dawns of old; we here see her now; there will follow others who will see her hereafter; but, o Dawn, beam here thy fairest; rich in blessings, true art thou to friend and right. Bring hither (to the morning sacrifice) the gods" (1. 113).
Since the metre (here ignored) of the following hymn is not all of one model, it is probable that after the fourth verse a new hymn began, which was distinct from the first; but the argument from metre is unconvincing, and in any event both songs are worth citing, since they show how varied were the images and fancies of the poets: "The Dawns are like heroes with golden weapons; like red kine of the morning on the field of heaven; shining they weave their webs of light, like women active at work; food they