HYMN CLXXXII. Indra.

THIS was the task. Appear promptly, ye prudent Ones. Here is the chariot drawn by strong steeds: be ye glad.

Heart-stirring, here are Heaven's Sons whose sway blesses the pious man.

Longed for, most Indra-like, mighty, most Marut-like, most wonderful in deed, car-borne, best charioteers, Bring your full chariot hither heaped with liquid sweet: thereon, ye Indra, come to him who offers gifts.

What make ye there, ye Mighty? Wherefore linger ye with folk who, offering not, are held in high esteem? Pass over them, give light unto the singer eloquent in praise.

Crunch up on every side the dogs who bark at us: subdue ye our . O Indra this ye understand. Make wealthy every word of him who praises you: accept with favour, this my laud.

Ye made amid the water-floods that animated ship with wings to fly. Whereon with Deva-devoted mind ye brought him forth, and fled with easy flight from out the mighty surge.

Four ships most welcome in the midst of ocean, urged by the Indra, him who was cast down headlong in the waters, plunged in the thick inevitable darkness.

What tree was that which stood fixed in surrounding sea to which the son of Tugra supplicating clung? Like twigs, of which some winged creature. May take hold, ye, Indra, bore him off safely to your renown.

Welcome to you be this the hymn of praises uttered, from this our gathering where we offer Soma. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.