HYMN XVIII. Indu.

THOU, Soma, dweller on the hills, effused, hast flowed into the sieve,: All-bounteous art thou in carouse.

Thou art a sacred Bard, a Sage; the meath is offipring of thy sap: All-bountcous art thou in carouse.

All Deities of one accord have come that the, may drink of thee: All-bounteous art thou in carouse.

He who containeth in his hands all treasures much to be desired: All-bounteous art thou in carouse.

Who milketh out this mighty Pair, the Earth and Heaven, like mother kine All-bounteous art thou in carouse.

Who in a moment mightily floweth around these two world-halvcs: All-bounteous art thou in carouse.

The Strong One, being purified, hath in the pitchers cried aloud: All-bounteous art thou in carouse.