HYMN XLII. Indra.

1. COME to the juice that we have pressed, to Sorna, Indra, bleat with milk:

Come, favouring us, thy Bay-drawn car!

2 Come, Indra, to this gladdening drink, placed on the grass, pressed out with stones:

Wilt thou not drink thy fill thereof?

3 To Indra have my songs of praise gone forth, thus rapidly sent hence,

To turn him to the Soma-draught.

4 Hither with songs of praise we call Indra to drink the Soma juice:

Will he not come to us by lauds?

5 Indra, these Somas are expressed. Take them within thy belly, Lord

Of Hundred Powers, thou Prince of Wealth.

6 We know thee winner of the spoil, and resolute in battles, Sage!

Therefore thy blessing we implore.

7 Borne hither by thy Stallions, drink, Indra, this juice which we have pressed,

Mingled with barley and with milk.

8 Indra, for thee, in thine own place, I urge the Soma for thy draught:

Deep in thy heart let it remain,

9 We call on thee, the Ancient One, Indra, to drink the Soma juice,

We Kusikas who seek thine aid.