Come, O Indra, mighty protector, to our side—guard our chariot, O Purandhi, and lead us to glory in the heavens, where we may offer our songs of praise. Let that Indra arrive who knows the wealth of treasures and bestows riches, who, like a thirsty wanderer in the desert, yearns for the sweet, pressed Soma. To you, O strong hero Hariva, let the Soma ascend, rising like the summit of a great mountain. We follow you, O king, swift as your followers, rejoicing in song, O much-invoked one. My mind trembles in awe at your might, O breaker of obstacles—like a spinning wheel, it whirls with fear and reverence. The singer, ever growing in devotion, places you upon the chariot; may the generous, gift-rich one receive our praise. This singer, like a stone, stirs up a mighty voice for you, Indra, eager for the pressed Soma. With your left hand, O generous one, send forth gifts; with your right, O Hariva, do not withhold them. May the sky itself increase your strength, O bull among bulls, you who are borne by two bay steeds. So, O Indra of the strong chariot, mighty and thunder-armed, grant us wealth. He who, with three hundred companions, harnesses the two swift red horses—let the young bow to him, and may the Maruts, famed for their chariots, gather for him. He strives with the radiance of the sun, his back anointed with ghee, bending forward in offering. For him, the ever-renewing dawns shine forth; let us press Soma for Indra, as he desires. The sacred fire is kindled, the grass is spread, the stones are readied, and the Soma is pressed; the stones speak their song, and the priest, with offering, approaches the flowing stream. As a bride approaches her husband, longing, and as the queen brings forth the sacred utterance, so does the sound of the chariot draw forth thousands in praise. That king stands unshaken, in whom Indra, friend of the cows, drinks the potent Soma. With his companions, he advances, slays the serpent, and rules his people—fortunate and noble in name. He prospers in safety and in battle, conquering in contest and war; beloved by the Sun and by Agni is he who offers pressed Soma to Indra. O Indra, wide-mouthed giver of wealth, bestower of gifts, hundred-powered one—grant us, for all people, glory, noble rule, and greatness. When, O mighty Indra, you establish fame and nourishment, you spread far your golden, unconquerable glory, long sung by all. Your powers, O stone-armed one, are strong through wisdom and insight; you and your divine companion rule for blessing in heaven and on earth. O slayer of Vṛtra, grant us heroism and the strength of heroes, according to your skill. With these blessings, O hundred-powered, grant us your protection—may we be well-guarded, O Indra, O hero. Whatever splendid power is yours, O stone-armed Indra, whatever wealth you bestow, grant us that wealth—bring us both kinds of riches. Whatever you deem most excellent, O generous Indra, bestow that heavenly gift upon us; may we know your favor in our time of need. With your resolute and generous mind, renowned and great, you overcome the strong and bring us the prize of attainment. Among the generous, you are the mightiest, king of peoples, Indra—ancient songs have served you with many voices. To you, this poetic speech, this hymn, is sung; for the bearer of prayer, the three songs grow and shine. Come, Indra, with the stones—drink the pressed Soma, O lord of Soma, mighty one, slayer of Vṛtra, with the mighty ones. The stones are mighty, the exhilaration is mighty, the pressed Soma is mighty; you, Indra, are mighty among the mighty, slayer of Vṛtra. I call you with mighty prayers, O thunderbolt-wielder; come, O Indra, and rejoice in the Soma at the midday pressing, swift and victorious, harnessing your two bay steeds. When Svarbhanu, the demon, struck you, O Sun, with darkness, you were bewildered as one lost in the fields, but you illumined the worlds. When Svarbhanu’s magic descended from the sky, O Indra, the sage Atri found the hidden Sun, veiled by darkness, with the fourth Brahman. Let not your anger fall upon me here; do not, in wrath or fear, drive me away. You are Mitra, true in your gifts, and Varuna, the king, protects us both. The priest, with stones and prayers, honored the gods with reverence; Atri restored the Sun’s eye to the sky, dispelling Svarbhanu’s magic. The Sun, whom the demon struck with darkness, was found by Atri, though others could not discover that darkness. Who, then, O Mitra and Varuna, will protect you—whether from the greatness of heaven or the power of earth, or in the seat of truth? Shield us, as one guards cattle or horses for sacrifice. May Mitra, Varuna, Aryaman, Indra, the Ribhus, and the Maruts favor us; and may those who honor Rudra, the gracious one, with reverent praise, find his blessing. To you, Ashvins, whom we call for help in the journey of the chariot and the wind, and to the lord of heaven, we offer our hymns, as gifts for sacrifice. The divine Kanva, the priest, Tritha, and the wind have joined with Agni; Pushan and Bhaga, givers of all, have come to the contest, swift as horses. Bring forth for us wealth yoked with horses; let our minds seek aid for riches. The auspicious Hotar of Ushij and you, Maruts, mighty ones, are ever present. Invoke Vayu, yoked to the chariot, and praise the wise divine provider with hymns. The righteous, generous wives have set their thoughts upon us. We approach you with worthy praises, with hymns that awaken even the youthful sky. Ushas and Night, knowing all, bring forth the sacrifice for mortals. We sing to you, the nourishing ones, to the lord of men, to Tvashtar, the creator. With reverence, the blessed Dhiṣaṇā, the trees, and the herbs all seek wealth. May the mountains be our protectors, like the Vasus, strong and heroic. May the provider, the Aptyas, the worshipful, always increase our praise and grant us noble blessings.