LOUD as a river's roaring wave thy powers have lifted up themselves: Urge on thine arrow's sharpened point.

At thine effusion upward rise three voices full of joy, when thou Flowest upon the fleecy ridge.

On to the fleece they urge with stone the tawny well-beloved One, Indu, dropping meath.

Flow with thy current to the sieve, O Sage most powerful to cheer, to seat thee in the place of song.

Flow, most Exhilarating! flow anointed with the milk for balm, indu, for Indra, for his drink.