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1
O COME ye hither, sit ye down: to Indra sing ye forth, your song,
companions,
bringing hymns of praise.
2
To him the richest of the rich, the Lord of treasures excellent,
Indra, wi
th Soma juice outpoured.
3
May he stand by us in our need and in abundance for our wealth:
May he come
nigh us with his strength.
4
Whose pair of tawny horses yoked in battles foemen challenge not:
To him, to
Indra sing your song.
5
Nigh to the Soma-drinker come, for his enjoyment, these pure drops,
The Somas
mingled with the curd.
6
Thou, grown at once to perfect strength, wast born to drink the Soma juice,
Strong
Indra, for preeminence.
7
O Indra, lover of the song, may these quick Somas enter thee:
May they
bring bliss to thee the Sage.
8
Our chants of praise have strengthened thee, O Satakratu, and our lauds
So
strengthen thee the songs we sing.
9
Indra, whose succour never fails, accept these viands thousandfold,
Wherein all
manly powers abide.
10
O Indra, thou who lovest song, let no man hurt our bodies, keep
Slaughter
far from us, for thou canst.
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