Hitherward! They who light the flame and trim the sacred grass,
Whose friend is Indra ever young.
High is their fuel, great their praise, wide is their splinter from the stake,
Whose friend is Indra ever young.
Unmatched in battle, the hero leads his army with the warrior chiefs,
Whose friend is Indra ever young.
The newborn Vṛtra-slayer asked his Mother, as he seized his shaft,
Who are the fierce? Who are renowned?
Śavasī answered: He who seeks thine enmity will battle like
A stately elephant on a hill.
Hear, O Maghavan; to him who craves of thee thou grantest all
What thou makest firm is firm.
When the Warrior Indra goes to battle, borne by noble steeds,
Best of all charioteers is he.
Repel, O Thunder-armed, in all directions all attacks on us:
And be our own most glorious God.
Thine enmity may we escape, and, Śakra, for thy bounty, rich
In kine, may we come near to thee.
Softly approaching, Thunder-armed, wealthy by hundreds, rich in steeds,
Unrivalled, ready with our gifts.
For thine exalted excellence gives to thy worshippers each day
Hundreds and thousands of thy boons.
Indra, we know thee breaker-down even of strong forts, winner of spoil,
As one who conquers wealth for us.
Though thou art highest, Sage and Bold! let the drops cheer thee when we come
To thee as to a trafficker.
Bring unto us the treasure of the opulent man who, loth to give,
Hastens to give, and thou dost not heed.
Indra, these friends of ours, supplied with Soma, wait and look to thee,
As men with fodder to the herd.
And thee who art not deaf, whose cars are quick to listen, for our aid,
We call to us from far away.
When thou hast listened, make our call one which thou never wilt forget,
And be our very nearest Friend.
Even now, when we have been in trouble, we have thought of thee,
O Indra, give us gifts of kine.
O Lord of Strength, we rest on thee, as old men rest upon a staff:
We long to have thee dwell with us.
To Indra sing a song of praise, Hero of mighty valour, him
Wh