From all directions, Indra, mighty wielder of weapons, you scattered the Dasyus, rendering the Dasa peoples insignificant before your power. You subdued, destroyed, and struck down the foes, and in doing so, your fame spread far and wide. Together with generous Soma, you made the broad earth rich with horses and cattle; you broke open what was locked away, released the imprisoned waters, and so the fields flourished in abundance. O Indra, praised in many hymns, come to us with your swift steeds, delighting in the Soma, ready for contest and for victory. Even from afar, you reach out to the many offerings of your devotees, true benefactor, honored with our songs. The wise one, summoned by the offerers, comes joyfully to the sacrifice, confident in his horses, rejoicing among the eager, and delighting with the assembled heroes. Let Indra make his ears attentive for the prize, to gladden the beloved direction. Raising his mighty voice for wealth, he clears the paths, making them easy and fearless for his followers. He comes to the singer who does not neglect the call, to the inspired one who praises and invokes him, placing at his side swift horses by the hundreds and thousands—Indra, lord of the thunderbolt. With your help, generous Indra, may we, the inspired ones, ever praise you. May we share in the great wealth of the wide sky, and win the abundant, much-desired treasure. No one, Indra, is your equal or superior—no one at all is like you, slayer of Vṛtra. All peoples turn to you, as the spokes to the nave of a wheel; your greatness is renowned among all. Even the gods themselves once contended with you, when you surpassed the darkness of night with the light of day. Where the wheel of battle turned for Kutsa, there, Indra, you stole away the sun. Where the gods were in distress, you alone conquered all the hosts of their enemies. Where, for the mortal seeking to slay his foes, you brought forth the sun’s steed with your powers. O slayer of Vṛtra, bountiful one, why are you so filled with wrath? Here lies the mother of the demon, slain by your hand. This heroic deed, this manly act, Indra, you performed when you struck down the difficult-to-subdue daughter of the sky. Even she, the great and honored daughter of the sky, you crushed, O mighty bringer-together. Terrified, she fled from her shattered chariot, when you, the bull, yoked her down at the ford. There her chariot lies, well-crushed, in the waters of the Vipāś, while she ran to the distant shore. You, Indra, split the river Vi-bālya, standing firm upon the earth, and surrounded it with your magic. With your might, you attacked the stronghold of Śuṣṇa, shattering his fortresses. The Dāsa named Śambara, dwelling on the great mountain, you cast down. And the Dāsa Varchin, you struck down by thousands and hundreds, as if in five gatherings. The son of Agri, cast away, you accepted into your hymns, O Indra of a hundred powers. Those Turvaśa and Yadu, unwashed and in need, you, the lord of might, knowing their plight, brought across to safety. Even those Aryas, O Indra, you struck down on the far side of the Sarayu, the two with bright chariots, in the flood. You, slayer of Vṛtra, abandoned the two, the blind and the lame; that was not your favor for the eighth. A hundred stone-built cities did you shatter for Divodāsa, your worshipper. You made the Dāsas sleep in terror—a thousand and thirty—by force, O Indra, with your magic. Thus, O slayer of Vṛtra, O Indra, lord of wealth, you have scattered all these things. And now, whatever heroic deed you will accomplish today, O Indra, let no one diminish your strength. May Aryaman grant you favor from afar, may Pūṣan and Bhaga grant you favor, may the gracious god bestow his grace upon you. By what wondrous means, O Indra, have you become our ever-strengthening friend and messenger? By what most powerful help are we protected? Among your true delights, O Indra, which is the greatest—who rejoices most in the Soma? Even the firmest you have broken, O giver of wealth. Be for us the protector of friends, of singers, and may your aid be a hundredfold. Come to us, as a wheel to the axle of a chariot, O Indra, with the bands of the peoples. You advance at the forefront of intentions, as if going to a contest; you partake together with the sun. When your powers unite, when your deeds are set together, then your strength is manifest—in you and in the sun. They call you, O Maghavan, lord of might, the generous giver to the seeker. Even today, for the one who praises you and presses Soma, you bestow abundant wealth. Never, not even once, do the distant ones or the deceitful attain your bounty. Thus, Indra, mighty and generous, you are ever our protector, our hero, our giver of wealth and victory.