HYMN XLV. Indra

YONDER goes up that light: your chariot is yoked that travels round upon the summit of this Heaven.

Within this car are stored three kindred shares of food, and a skin filled with meath is rustling as the fourth.

Forth come your offerings rich with store of pleasant meath, and cars and horses at the flushing of the dawn, Stripping the covering from the surrounded gloom, and spreading through mid-air bright radiance like the Sun.

Drink of the meath with lips accustomed to the draught; harness for the meath's sake the chariot that ye love. Refresh the way ye go, refresh the paths with meath: hither, O Indra, bring the skin that holds the meath.

The swans ye have are friendly, rich in store of meath, gold-pinioned, strong to draw, awake at early morn, Swimming the flood, exultant, fain for draughts that cheer: ye come like flies to our libations of the meath.

Well knowing solemn rites and rich in meath, the fires sing to the morning Indra at the break of day, when with pure hands the prudent energetic priest hath with the stones pressed out the Soma rich in meath.

The rays advancing nigh, chasing with day the gloom, spread through the Firmament bright radiance like the Sun; And the Sun harnessing his horses goeth forth: ye through your Godlike nature let his paths be known.

Devout in thought I have declared, O Indra, your chariot with good steeds, which lasts forever, Wherewith ye travel swiftly through the regions to the prompt worshipper who brings oblation.