Hymns of the Atharva Veda, by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1895], at sacred-texts.com
1The moonlight equalleth the sun, night is the rival of the day.
I make effectual power my help: let magic arts be impotent.
2Gods! if one make and bring a spell on some man's house who
knows it not,
Close as the calf that sucks the cow may it revert and cling to
him.
3When one puts poison in a dish of unbaked clay to kill a man,
It cracks when set upon the fire with the sharp sound of many
stones.
4Endowed with thousand powers! adjure the bald and those with
necks awry.
Back to its author turn the spell like a dear damsel to her
friend!
5I with this Plant have ruined all malignant powers of witchery.
The spell which they have laid upon thy field, thy cattle, or thy
men.
6No power had he who wrought the spell: he hurt his foot, he
broke his toe.
His act hath brought us happiness and pain and sorrow to him-
self.
7Let Apāmārga sweep away chronic disease and every curse,
Sweep sorceresses clean away, and all malignant stingy hags.
8Sweep thou away the sorcerers, all stingy fiendish hags away.
All this, O Apāmārga, with thine aid we wipe away from us.