XII Indra

1. We compass thee like water, we whose grass is trimmed and Soma pressed.

Here where the filter pours its stream, thy worshippers round thee, O Vritra-slayer, sit.

2. Men, Vasu! by the Soma with lauds call thee to the foremost place.

When cometh he athirst unto the juice as home, O Indra, like a bellowing bull?

3. O valiant hero, boldly win thousandfold spoil with Kanva's sons!

O active Maghavan, with eager prayer we crave the yellowhued with store of kine.