Indra, mighty among the descendants of Nahusha, you possess strength and manliness, brilliance shining among the five peoples. Gather all these powers together for us, we pray. O generous one, whatever heroic force you have among the Trikshas, Druhyus, Janas, Purus, or the Vṛṣṇis—grant that to us, O subduer of men, so that we may overcome our foes in battle. Grant us, Indra, a triple protection, threefold shelter, filled with well-being. Bestow your shield upon the generous and upon me; drive away the lightning from these people. When those who desire cattle charge boldly against their enemies, O Indra, lover of song, be our closest protector, present with your strength. Be our strength and support in battle, Indra. When the sharp-headed lightnings fly in the sky, keep them away from us. Where heroes stretch out their bodies, extending the cherished shelter of the fathers, there, protect our persons and our kin, and drive away senseless hatred. When you urge on the horses at the contest for great wealth, O Indra, along uneven roads and difficult paths, may they speed like falcons seeking fame. Like swift rivers rushing down a slope, as if summoned, as birds flock to food, so may those who are seized by the arms in the contest not turn back. This Soma is sweet, honeyed, strong, and full of essence; truly, Indra, none who has drunk it can withstand you in battle. This delightful drink made you rejoice, O Indra, when you slew Vritra; with it, in your youthful might, you destroyed the ninety-nine cities of Shambara. This pressed Soma stirs my voice and inspires my eager thought; this wise one measures out the hero, from whom not even a single world is hidden. He is the one who made the wide expanse of earth and the height of heaven; this Soma has placed nourishing essence in the three flowing streams and supported the broad midspace. This wondrous one, with radiant vision and knowledge, dwells in the abode of dawns; by his great support, he upheld the sky, the bull with the Maruts. Drink the bold Soma in the vessel, O Indra, slayer of Vritra, hero in the gathering of riches. At the midday pressing, become strong and bestow wealth upon us, you who possess riches. Indra, look upon us as you did upon our forefathers; lead us across to the further shore of wealth. Be our good pilot, carry us across, be our wise guide and leader. You, knowing, lead us to a wide space, to the radiant, fearless, and auspicious light. Mighty Indra, may we come for shelter to your strong and ancient arms. Place us, Indra, in the best chariot, the swiftest, with a hundred prizes and horses. Bring us the most abundant wealth; let not the hostile rich man surpass us, O generous one. Be gracious to me, Indra, grant me life. Inspire my prayers as a craftsman sharpens the edge; whatever I, seeking long life, say to you—accept that, and do not make me subject to the displeasure of the gods. I call upon Indra, the protector and helper, the easily-invoked hero, at every offering. I summon Śakra, much-invoked Indra. May Maghavan Indra grant us well-being. May Indra, of excellent protection and generous gifts, be gracious to us with his aid, all-knowing. May he drive away hatred, grant us fearlessness; may we be lords of heroic strength. May we be in the good favor and happy mind of that worshipful one. May Indra, of excellent protection and generous gifts, drive away hatred from us, even from afar. To you, Indra, descend the streams, the hymns, the chants, the prayers, the offerings. Like wide wealth at the pressings, you, O Vajrin, gather the many drops together. Who can praise him, who can satisfy him, who can worship him, when Maghavan, the slayer of all, advances? Striking one after another like feet, with his powers he makes the former the latter. The mighty one is heard—fierce, subduing, surpassing others, led by his own force. As king, Indra exalts both the flourishing and the declining among men. He abandons the friendships of the former, moving on to others, seeking new ones. Indra, surpassing the old, leaves behind the unexperienced, crossing over many years. He has become a counterpart to every form; that is his form for each observer. Indra, with his many forms, moves by his powers; his ten times a hundred steeds are harnessed. Yoking the bay steeds to his chariot, he shines greatly here, O Tvaṣṭṛ. Who can always withstand the hostile sides, whether seated or among the shining ones? We have come to the field of cattle, O gods; the wide earth has become broad and spacious. O Bṛhaspati, show care for the prize; knowing, Indra, the path for the singer. Day by day, the black ones, born of the house, perished, each one like the other. The bull slew the Dāsa, Vasnaya, and in the enclosure, Varcina and Śambara. Indeed, Indra gave Prastoka ten chariots, ten horses, ten prizes. From Divodāsa and Atithigva he received the wealth of Śambara. Ten horses, ten chariots, ten garments, and abundant food; ten lumps of gold I obtained from Divodāsa. Ten chariots with seats, a hundred cows, Atharvan received. Aśvatha gave to Pāyu. Sārñjaya bestowed upon the Bharadvājas great and all-generating wealth. O Lord of the Forest, may you be strong-limbed, our friend, a crossing, heroic. Bound with cows, be victorious; may your standing bring us success in conquest. From heaven and earth, raised up, from the trees, gathered together, is strength. The vigor of the waters, surrounded by cows, offer Indra's bolt, the chariot, with oblation. Indra's bolt is the front of the Maruts, the embryo of Mitra, the navel of Varuṇa. Accepting this offering, O god, take up the chariot for our oblation. Direct your breath toward the earth and the sky; let your presence be acknowledged in many places throughout the world. O drum, together with Indra and the gods, drive away enemies from afar, push them further away. Resound, O drum, with strength and power; strike down hardships as you thunder. Drive away misfortune, O drum; you are Indra’s fist—fall upon the wicked. Rise up, O drum, turn these omens back; let the drum sound forth with signs of victory. May our charioteers, with horses swift as the wind, move together; Indra, may our warriors win. With sacrifice after sacrifice, with song after song, we praise Agni for skill. We proclaim the immortal, Jātavedas, our dear friend, as Mitra is praised.