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1. LOUD singing at the sacred rite where
Soma flows we priests invoke
With haste, that he may help, as the bard's Cherisher, Indra
who findeth wealth for you.
2. Whom with fair helm, in rapture of the
juice, the firm resistless slayers hinder not:
Giver of glorious wealth to him who sing a his praise,
honouring him who toils and pours:
3 Sakra, who like a curry-comb for horses
or a golden goad,
Indra, the Vrtra-slayer, urges eagerly the opening of the
stall of kine:
4 Who for the worshipper scatters forth
ample wealth, even though buried, piled in heaps:
May Indra, Lord of Bay Steeds, fair-helmed Thunderer, act at
his pleasure, as he lists.
5 Hero whom many praise, what thou hast
longed for, oven of old, from men.
All that we offer unto thee, O Indra, now, sacrifice, laud,
effectual speech.
6 To Soma, Much-invoked, Bolt-armed! for
thy carouse, Celestial, Soma-drinker come.
Thou to the man who- prays and pours the juice hast been
best giver of delightful wealth.
7 Here, verily, yesterday we let the
Thunder-wielder drink his fill.
So in like manner offer him the jifice today. Now range you
by the Glorious One.
8 Even the wolf, the savage beast that
rends the sheep, follows the path of his decrees.
So graciously accepting, Indra, this our praise, with
wondrous thought come forth to us.
9 What manly deed of vigour now remains
that Indra hath not done?
Who hath not heard his glorious title and his fame, the
Vrtra-slayer from his birth?
10 'How great his power resistless! how
invincible the Vrtra-slayer's matchless might!
Indra excels all usurers who see the day, excels all
traffickers in strength.
11 O Indra, Vrtra-slayer, we, thy very
constant worshippers,
Bring prayers ne'er heard before to thee, O Much-invoked, O
Thunder-armed, to be thy meed.
12 O thou of mighty acts, the aids that are
in thee call forward many an eager hope.
Past the drink-offerings, Vasu, even of the good, hear my
call, Strongest God, and come.
13 Verily, Indra, we are thine, we
worshippers depend on thee.
For there is none but only thou to show us race, O Maghavan,
thou much invoked.
14 From this our misery and famine set us free,
from this dire curse deliver us.
Succour us with thine help and with tby wondrous thought.
Most Mighty, finder of the way.
15 Now let your Soma juice be poured; be
not afraid, O Kali's sons.
This darkening sorrow goes away; yea, of itself it vanishes.
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