Gathered in reverence, the faithful prepared the sacred Soma, pressing it with care and devotion for Indra, the heroic and mighty one. With the eldest among them leading, they offered the noble drink, inviting Indra, the foremost among helpers, to partake. For it is he who responds most readily to invocation, bestowing upon singers swift horses and abundant wealth, and granting cattle to those who praise him. One after another, the pressers worked swiftly, eager to prepare the intoxicating Soma for the mighty Indra. Let the slayer of Vṛtra drink here, they prayed, for when he is pleased and strengthened by the pressed Soma, he restrains the foe and protects his worshippers with a hundredfold aid. The people called upon the two bay steeds, yoked by prayer, to bring Indra—the famous friend, beloved of hymns and renowned in song—to their midst. “Come to the sweet Somas, come to the shining Somas, O bright-jawed and powerful one,” they sang, “come to our shared feast like a sage among men.” Those who praise Indra increase him in greatness and strength, exalting the doer of mighty deeds. All the hymns and songs composed for him have gathered and united in his divine powers. Indra alone, strong in action and sole wielder of the thunderbolt, bestows unfailing rewards. Invoked by many, he strikes down Vṛtra with his right hand, displaying his immense might. All peoples, even the aging and decaying, find their refuge in Indra, in whom the cosmic laws are upheld in order. This Indra, renowned above all, has accomplished wondrous deeds and is the bestower of generous prizes. He sets forth the chariot in search of cattle and brings it safely from afar, carrying wealth to his devotees. Inspired, Indra is a provider of horses, a slayer of Vṛtra among men, a true protector who accomplishes all. The people worshipped him with heartfelt offerings and united minds, for he has become true through the Soma and remains undeceived. The Kanvas sang of Gāthaśravas, the true lord, desiring glory and wide renown, the winner of prizes. Indra, even unasked, gives cattle from his dwelling, a powerful friend to men; those who have sought him find their desires fulfilled. Indra, the stone-splitter, made the wise Kāṇva, the pure guest, renowned, leading him forth like a strong ram. The people prayed for abundant gifts: “Grant, O Vibhindu, four tens of thousands, and eight thousand more beyond.” They asked that those nourished by milk not be deprived of the joy of battle, and that they themselves be born for such purpose. Turning once more to Indra, they invited him to drink the pressed, exhilarating Soma, to delight in the cattle-rich offering, and to be their ally at the feast, increasing their prosperity and protecting them with his thoughts. “May we remain in your favor, O prize-giver,” they prayed, “let us not fall before the hostile one. Protect us with wondrous aid and lead us to your kindness.” They offered their songs to Indra, the far-seeing one, hoping their praises would increase his power. Bright, pure, and wise, these hymns approached him, exalting his greatness. Indra, mighty with a thousand seers, spread out like the ocean; his greatness is true, and his power is praised in sacrifice and in the sovereignty of the inspired. At every offering, in every assembly, in the forest and for the gaining of wealth, Indra alone is called by the people. By his greatness, Indra has expanded the two worlds; by his power, he made the sun shine. In Indra all beings reside, and in him the pressed Somas find strength. The ancient drinkers, the Ayus, praised Indra with their hymns; the Ribhus sang in harmony, and the Rudras honored the ancient one. Through the exhilaration of Soma, Indra grew in strength and manly power; his greatness is celebrated by the Ayus as in times of old. The people approached Indra for heroic strength and the sacred power of insight, by which he brought wealth to the Bhrigus and aided Praskanva for the benefit of the devout. With that same might, Indra released the great rivers to the ocean; his greatness never diminishes, and the earth cannot subdue him. “Grant us, Indra, the wealth and heroic strength we seek,” they prayed. “Grant the eager ones the prize, and bestow upon us the ancient praise.” They asked Indra to aid them as he had aided leaders in their striving, as he protected Rushama, Shyavaka, and Kripa, shining upon them with the light of the sun. Let mortals praise the Kanvas, Atasinas, and the swift—yet none can attain the measure of Indra’s greatness, though they praise him. Who, seeking truth, what sage or inspired one, can truly comprehend him? When, O generous Indra, will you come to the call of the one who presses and praises? Upward rose the most honeyed songs, the victorious and tireless hymns, hastening like chariots to win the prize. Like the Kanvas, the Bhrigus, the Suns, all the inspired ones praised Indra; with hymns they magnified him, and the beloved Medhasas sang aloud. “O slayer of Vṛtra,” they called, “yoke your two bays and come from afar, generous one, to the Soma-drink. Come mighty, come with the eager.” For the poets and wise ones longed for Indra in thought, seeking wisdom; so Indra, lover of song, listened to their call, attentive as a singer. Indra, with his great bow, struck down Vṛtra; he destroyed the cunning of Arbuda, the wild beast, and drove forth the cows hidden in the mountain. When fire was extinguished, when the sun was hidden, when Soma’s essence was lost, Indra cast down the great demon from the midspace—such is the heroic deed of Indra, the mighty.