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I. FLOW on to Indra, Soma,
carefully effused: let sickness stay afar together with the fiends.
Let not the double-tongued
delight them with thy juice. here be thy flowing drops laden with opulence.
2 O Pavamana,
urge us forward in the fight thou art the vigour of the Gods, the well-loved
drink.
Smite thou our enemies who
raise the shout of joy: Indra, drink Soma juice, and drive away our foes.
3 Unharmed,
best Cheerer, thou, O Indu, flowest on: thou, even thou thyself, art Indra's
noblest food.
Full many a wise man lifts to
thee the song of praise, and hails thee with a kiss as Sovran of this world.
4 Wondrous,
with hundred streams, hymned in a thousand songs, Indu pours out for Indra his
delightrul meath.
Winning us land and waters,
flow thou hitherward: Rainer of bounties, Soma, make broad way for us.
5 Roaring
within the beaker thou art balmed with milk: thou passest through the fleecy
filter all at once.
Carefully cleansed and decked
like a prizewinning steed, O Soma, thou hast flowed down within Indra's throat.
6 Flow onward
sweet of flavour for the Heavenly Race, for Indra sweet, whose name is easily
invoked:
Flow sweet for Mitra, Varuna,
and Vayu, rich in meath, inviolable for Brhaspati.
7 Ten rapid
fingers deck the Courser in the jar: with hymns the holy singers send their
voices forth.
The filtering juices hasten to
their eulogy, the drops that gladden find their way to Indra's heart.
8 While thou
art purified pour on us hero strength, great, far-extended shelter, spacious
pasturage.
Let no oppression master this
our holy work: may we, O Indu, gain all opulence through thee.
9 The Steer who
sees afar hath risen above the sky: the Sage hath caused the lights of heaven
to give their shine.
The. King is passing through
the filter with a roar: they drain the milk of heaven from him who looks on
men.
10 High in the
vault of heaven, unceasing, honey-tongued, the Loving Ones drain out the
mountain-haunting Steer, -
The drop that hath grown great
in waters, in the lake meath-rich, in the stream's wave and in the cleansing
sieve.
11 The Loving
Ones besought with many voices the Eagle who had flown away to heaven.
Hymns kiss the Youngling worthy
of laudation, resting on earth, the Bird of golden colour.
12 High to
heaven's vault hath the Gandharva risen, beholding all his varied forms and
figures.
His ray hath shone abroad with
gleaming splendour: pure, he hath lighted both the worlds, the Parents.
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