WE compass thee like waters, we whose grass is trimmed and Soma pressed.

Here where the filter pours its stream, thy worshippers round thee, O Indra, sit.

Men, Vasu! by the Soma, with lauds call thee to the foremost place: When comest thou athirst unto the juice as home, O Indra, like a bellowing bull?

Boldly, Bold Hero, bring us spoil in thousands for the Kaṇvas' sake. O active Indra, with eager prayer we crave the yellow-hued with store ol kine.

Medhyātithi, to Indra sing, drink of the juice to make thee glad. Close-knit to his Bay Steeds, bolt-armed, beside the juice is he: his chariot is of gold.

He Who is praised as strong of hand both right and left, most wise and hold: Indra who, rich in hundreds, gathers thousands up, honoured as breaker-down of forts.

The bold of heart whom none provokes, who stands in bearded confidence; Much-lauded, very glorious, overthrowing foes, strong Helper, like a bull with might.

Who knows what vital ower he wins, drinking beside the flowing juice? This is the fair-checked Deva who, joying in the draught, breaks down the castles in his strength.

As a wild elephant rushes on this way and that way, mad with heat,' Non. May compel thee, yet come hither to the draught: thou movest mighty in thy power.

When he, the Mighty, ne’er o’erthrown, steadfast, made ready for the fight, when Indra Indra lists to his praiser's call, he will not stand aloof, but come.

Yea, verily, thou art a Bull, with a bull's rush. whom non. May stay: Thou Mighty One, art celebrated as a Bull, famed as a Bull both near and far.

Thy reins are very bulls in strength, bulls' strength is in thy golden whip. Thy car, O Indra, thy Bays are strong as bulls: thou, Śatakratu, art a Bull.

Let the strong presser press for thee. Bring hither, thou straight-rushing Bull. The mighty makes the mighty run in flowing streams for thee whom thy Bay Horses bear.

Come, thou most potent Indra, come to drink the savoury Soma juice. Indra, very wise, will quickly come to hear the songs, the prayer, the hymns of praise.

When thou hast mounted on thy car let thy yoked Bay Steeds carry thee, Past other men's libations, Lord of Hundred Powers, thee, Vṛtra-slayer, thee our Friend.

O thou Most Lofty One, accept our laud as nearest to thine heart. May our libations be most sweet to make thee glad, O Soma-drinker. Heavenly Lord.

Neither in thy decree nor mine, but in another's he delights. The man who brought us unto this.

Indra himself hath said, the mind of woman brooks not discipline. Her intellect hath little weight.

His pair of horses, rushing on in their wild transport, draw his car: High-lifted is the stallion's yoke.

Cast down thine eyes and look not up. More closely set thy feet. Let none See what thy garment veils, for thou, a Brahman, hast become a dame.