Verse 12

⁷Vena's son bears the wrong of those who trample on him, keeping the way of the earth, always kind to beings in distress. ⁸When the god of rain does not rain, this god, Hari in the body of a king, will straightway guard the people whose living has grown hard, as Indra does. ⁹He makes the world thrive with his face, which is the deathless drink itself, with a look full of love and lovely with its clear smile. ¹⁰His path is unseen, his business hidden, his aim deep, his wealth kept close. Prthu, the one seat of the qualities of a greatness that has no end, keeps himself covered like Pracetas. ¹¹Hard to come near, hard to bear, close by and yet as though far off, he cannot be overcome: he is the fire that rose from the kindling wood that was Vena.

¹²Watching by his spies what beings do within and without, he oversees them like one who takes no side, as the wind does, as the self does in those who have bodies.