HYMN XXXI Indra.

SOLE Lord of wealth art thou, O Lord of riches: thou in thine hands hast held the people, Indra! Men have invoked thee with contending voices for seed and waters, progeny and sunlight.

Through fear of thee, O Indra, all the regions of Earth, though naugh. May move them, shake and tremble.

All that is firm is frightened at thy coming, -the Earth, the Heaven, the mountain, and the forest.

With Kutsa, Indra! thou didst conquer Śuṣṇa, voracious, bane of crops, in fight for cattle. In the close fray thou rentest him: thou stolest the Sun's wheel and didst drive away misfortunes.

Thou smotest to the ground the hundred castles, impregnable, of Śambara the Dasyu, when, Strong, with might thou holpest Divodāsa who poured libations out, O Soma-buyer, and madest Bharadvāja rich who praised thee.

As such, true Hero, for great joy of battle mount thy terrific car, O Brave and Manly. Come with thine help to me, thou distant Roamer, and, glorious Deva, spread among men my glory.