III Indra

1. This, even this, O Indra, we implore: as thy devoted friends,

The Kanvas praise thee with their hymns.

2. Naught else, O Thunderer, have I praised in the skilled singer's eulogy;

On thy laud only have I thought.

3. The Gods seek him who presses out the Soma; they desire not sleep:

They punish sloth unweariedly