III Indra

1. Come hither, Indra, with bay steeds, joyous, with tails like peacocks' plumes!

Let no men check thy course as fowlers stay the bird: pass o'er them as o'er desert lands!

2. Vritra's devourer, he who burst the cloud, brake forts, and drave the floods,

Indra, who mounts his chariot at his bay steeds' cry, shatters e'en things that stand most firm.

3. Like pools of water deep and full, like kine thou cherishest thy might;

Like the milch-cows that go well-guarded to the mead, like water-brooks that reach the lake.