Once, in the radiant assembly of the gods, the Maruts—the honey-hearted, wise hosts of Indra—stood present, ready at his call. At Indra’s urging, they aided him in the mighty task: together, they discovered and struck at the vital joints of Vṛtra, the arrogant one who held back the life-giving waters. Indra, delighted as a man at the pressing of Soma, drank deeply for ever-renewed strength. Swift-horsed and eager, he came to the sacrifices, surrounded by his helpers, and with their aid drove away the constraining waters. It was Indra who, when he slew Vṛtra, set the imprisoned waters free, letting them race forth like steeds in a contest. With his weapon, he struck down both the moving and the still, casting out the godless and securing the gods’ place. With reverence, all worshipped mighty Indra—the great, lofty, ageless, and ever-youthful one—whose beloved greatness is so vast that neither heaven nor earth can contain it. The deeds of Indra are manifold and well-accomplished; even the gods do not transgress his commands. With wise intent, he upheld the earth and heavens, and it was he who brought forth the sun and the dawn. Indra’s greatness is true, without falsehood. Newly born, he drank the Soma at once, and neither the heavens nor the strength of his power, nor the days, months, or years, can reach its limit. When Indra was newly born, he drank the Soma for exhilaration in the highest heaven; upon entering the realms of heaven and earth, he became the ancient one, ready for the work of the seer. He struck down the serpent coiled about the waters, growing ever mightier in the act. Not even the sky could match his greatness; with the support of others, he held the earth firm. For Indra, the sacrifice became an increaser, and the pressed Soma, so dear to him, brought delight. By sacrifice, he supported the sacrifice itself, and by sacrifice, he gained the thunderbolt to slay the serpent. Through sacrifice and with help, men brought Indra near, seeking his favor anew. He, who has grown with ancient, middle, and new hymns alike, is ever present to those who call. When inspiration gave birth to this hymn for Indra, the ancient one, it was sung in praise, seeking deliverance from distress—just as voyagers in a boat call for rescue. His vessel is filled to the brim with offerings of svāhā, poured like drink into a cup. The beloved ones gather for exhilaration, and the Somas encircle Indra, moving joyously. Neither deep rivers nor encircling mountains can confine Indra. Urged by his companions, he broke even the firmest enclosure to win the cattle-rich expanse. In every contest, Indra is called upon—the most generous, the foremost among men in prize-winning, the mighty one who listens for help in battle, who slays adversaries and conquers riches. Swiftly, the rivers hasten to the lap of the mountains, like horses released in joy. Vipāś and Śutudrī, like two bright cows longing for their calf, flow with nourishing waters. Urged by Indra, these two rivers proceed toward the ocean, swelling with waves, striving together, each seeking to surpass the other. People come to the most motherly Sindhu, to the wide and blessed Vipāś. Like mothers caressing their calf, these rivers move together, following the same channel. Travelers, filled with the rivers’ waters, move along the channel made by the gods. The current, once set in motion, does not turn aside, and the inspired priest calls upon the rivers for favor. “O righteous ones,” he prays, “delight in my speech for Soma. Come for a moment. To the great Sindhu I call with lofty praise—I, the son of Kuśika, seeking your favor.” Indra, with his thunder-armed might, cleared a path for the people, striking down Vṛtra, the barrier of the rivers. The god Savitṛ, with fair hands, led them forward, and by his impulse, they reached the wide lands. This heroic deed of Indra is always to be proclaimed: when he split the serpent with his thunderbolt, the waters, longing to flow, rushed onward. “Let not this word, O singer, be in vain,” the hymn declares, “for your praises have crossed generations. Accept our hymn, O poet; do not let any strength turn from your favor.” “O sisters,” the traveler calls to the rivers, “listen to Kārava, who has come from afar with his cart and chariot. Bow down, become easy to cross, O rivers. Sink beneath the axles with your flowing streams.” The rivers respond: “To you, Kārava, we listen, for you have come from afar. We bow down, swelling like a woman to her lover, like a maiden to a young man—always for you.” If, guided by Indra, the Bharatas should cross with their cattle, let the current, set in motion, flow forth. The inspired one has shared the good favor of the rivers. “Flow forth, you abundant ones, granting boons; fill your channels, go in prosperity.” “Let the wave rise up for you gently; release the bonds, O waters. Cause no harm or injury; let there be no misfortune or distress.” Indra, breaker of barriers, tore open the fortress of the Dasa with his might and compassion, granting wealth and scattering enemies. Guided by prayer, growing in strength, the generous one filled both heaven and earth. For his sacrifice and power, praise is offered, adorned for immortality. Indra is lord among human peoples, among the divine hosts, and among those who came before. Indra chose to shatter Vṛtra, the destroyer, striking down deceivers and the arrogant. He slew the obstructers in the forests and revealed the cows to the seekers. Shining, Indra brought forth the days, conquering hostile armies with his weapons. He made manifest the sign for Manu, the mighty, and found light for the great battle. Indra entered the praises and offerings, establishing many heroic deeds for men. He awakened thoughts in the worshipper, bestowing radiant, pure form. His deeds are many and splendid; by force, he crushed the wicked and overcame the tricksters and hostile ones. In battle, Indra made a path for the gods, the true lord and protector of people. In Vivasvat’s house, sages praise his deeds with hymns and songs. Mighty and worthy, Indra, the companion in strength and lord of light, subdued earth and heavens alike. The wise and inspired rejoice in him. He subdued the waters and the sun, the cow, and the golden wealth. After slaying the enemies, he brought forth noble form. Indra stirred the plants and days, the trees and the midspace. He broke the barrier and released speech, becoming the restrainer of the arrogant. Let us call upon generous Indra, best among men, in this battle for the prize. Fierce and attentive, may he slay our foes and win us wealth. “Stand ready, horses, yoked to the chariot,” the priest calls. “Come as the wind, bringing us near. Drink the pressed Soma offered here, Indra, with the cry of ‘svaha’, for our delight.” Swift horses are harnessed to the chariot for Indra, the much-invoked one. Let them run, gathering from all sides, and bring Indra to this sacrifice.