Now lift ye up yourselves and look on Indra's seasonable share.

If it be ready, offer it; unready, ye have been remise.

Oblation is prepared: come to us, Indra; the Sun hath travelled over half his journey. Friends with their stores are sitting round thee waiting like lords of clans for the tribe's wandering chieftain.

Dressed in the udder and on fire, I fancy; well-dressed, I fancy, is this recent present. Drink, Indra, of the curd of noon's libation with favour, Thunderer, thou whose deeds are mighty.