Indra, the mighty and generous lord, moves with the plunderer, seizing food and distributing wealth to those who worship him—the good and virtuous. No stronghold can safeguard the possessions of one who provokes Indra’s power; such a man loses everything. Indra knows both peoples—the wealthy and the renowned—among the shining cows. With his strength, he made one yokemate tremble, and the streams released the milk of the cows. He is praised with a thousand songs, his brightness like fire, the noble banner, the worthy sign. For him, the restrained waters flow forth, and in him resides powerful, splendid sovereignty. The people call upon Indra for his most helpful, victorious, and unconquerable aid, which supports all. Whether he has four, three, or even five aids among the peoples, they ask him to bring them forth. They invoke his most excellent and vigorous help, for Indra is born with the strength of a bull, with mighty powers. Truly, he is a bull for giving, steadfast in manliness, his force and mind bold and unwavering. Indra, breaker of obstacles, is asked to subdue the mortal who acts as an enemy. As lord of strength, hundred-powered, he is called to go forth with all his chariots. People invoke him, slayer of Vṛtra, fierce and ancient among the ancients, for the gaining of prizes. Indra is asked to make their chariot victorious in contests and wealth, always triumphant in battle. They seek his protection for their chariot, wishing to obtain glory in heaven and to offer their praise there. Let Indra come, who understands the wealth of treasures and gives riches, longing for the sweet, pressed Soma like a thirsty wanderer in the desert. To him, the Soma rises like a mountain’s summit. Following him, as swift ones follow, the people rejoice with songs, invoking him again and again. The mind trembles with fear at the thought of Indra’s might, as a spinning wheel spins. The singer, ever growing, places Indra on the chariot, praising the generous one, rich in gifts. Like a stone, the singer stirs up a great voice for Indra, eager for the pressed Soma. With his left hand, Indra sends forth gifts, and with his right, he does not withhold them. Let the sky increase Indra, the bull among bulls, who carries with two bay steeds. May Indra, strong charioted, well-cheeked, mighty, thunderer, grant wealth. He, with three hundred companions, harnesses the two red, swift horses; the young ones bow to him, and the Maruts, famed for their chariots, come together for him. Indra strives with the radiance of the sun, offering up, his back anointed with ghee, bending forward. For him, the undiminished dawns shine forth; the people press Soma for Indra, as he desires. The kindled fire is pleasing, the sacred grass is spread, the stones are prepared, and the Soma is pressed. The stones speak to him, and the priest, with the offering, approaches the stream. The bride approaches, desiring her husband, and the queen brings forth the sacred utterance. From the sound of the chariot, many thousands turn about in praise. That king is unshaken, in whom Indra, friend of the cows, drinks the strong Soma; with his companions he advances, slays the serpent, and rules the people, fortunate and bearing a noble name. He prospers in safety and in battle, conquering both in contest and war; beloved by the Sun and by Agni is he who offers the pressed Soma to Indra. Indra, wide-mouthed, giver of wealth, hundred-powered, is asked to grant glory, noble rule, and greatness for all people. When he establishes fame and nourishment, he spreads far the golden, unconquerable glory long heard of. His powers, strong through wisdom and insight, rule for blessing in heaven and on earth. The people ask the slayer of Vṛtra to grant heroism and the strength of heroes. With these blessings, Indra, hundred-powered, is called to grant protection, to guard the people well. Whatever splendid power Indra possesses, stone-armed and bestower of wealth, the people ask him to grant that wealth and both kinds of riches. Whatever he considers most excellent, they ask for that heavenly gift, wishing to know his favor for their burning need. Indra’s resolute, generous mind overcomes even the strong and brings the prize for attainment. The ancient songs, with many voices, have served him, king of peoples, most mighty among the generous, for praise. To him, this poetic speech, this hymn, is sung; for the bearer of prayer, the three songs grow and shine. Indra is called to come with the stones and drink the pressed Soma, mighty lord of Soma, slayer of Vṛtra. The stone is mighty, the exhilaration is mighty, the pressed Soma is mighty; Indra, with mighty ones, slayer of Vṛtra, is invoked with mighty prayers. Swift, thunderbolt-wielder, victorious, powerful king, slayer of Vṛtra, Soma-drinker—harnessing the two bays, let Indra come to the midday pressing, rejoicing in Soma. When Svarbhanu, the demon, struck the Sun with darkness, the bewildered Sun illuminated the worlds. When Svarbhanu’s magic descended from the sky, Atri found the hidden Sun, veiled by darkness, with the fourth Brahman. The people pray that Indra’s anger not fall upon them, asking not to be driven away out of wrath or fear. Indra is Mitra, true in his gifts, and Varuna, the king, protects both. The priest, with stones and prayers, honored the gods with reverence; Atri restored the Sun’s eye in the sky, dispelling Svarbhanu’s magic. Thus, the people praise Indra, the mighty and generous, slayer of Vṛtra, ruler of peoples, bestower of wealth and glory, ever victorious and ever invoked, whose power and blessings guard and sustain all.