Gathered together, the friends and singers turned their thoughts to Indra, the mighty wielder of the thunderbolt. With devotion in their hearts, they resolved to seek him through their hymns, eager to praise the most heroic and bold among all beings. For Indra’s fame resounded everywhere—he was celebrated for his strength, renowned as the slayer of Vṛtra, and his heroic deeds surpassed all others. None could match his generosity; even the most giving of men were left behind by his bountiful gifts. As their voices rose in praise, they invoked Indra to bring them wealth—riches adorned with splendid fame. They recognized that his generosity extended even to those far away; no true seeker was left without reward by this eager lord. Indra, ever watchful, saw both the one who stood apart and the beloved among the people. Mighty and bold, he alone could bring the blessings for which they prayed. No adversary could restrain Indra’s power, whether from the left or the right; no obstacle could bar his way in the contests for cattle and abundance. The singers urged him onward, calling him “stone-bearer,” and entreated him with words as one might urge cattle into the pen. They asked him to fulfill the desires of the singer, to fill their minds with satisfaction. Indra, the slayer of Vṛtra, possessed an all-encompassing mind and wisdom. As a mighty Vasu, he was summoned to bring his aid. The worshippers longed to know his newest favor, to receive a portion of his splendid bounty. Indra’s heroic power was unfailing, and his bounty, pure and untainted, was ever ready for those who worshipped him. They called upon him to pour forth his might for the great rite, that the most heroic reward might be won. Even the strong and steadfast were made firm by his generosity, and he uplifted the worthy with gifts. And so, even if their desires had wandered elsewhere, they prayed that Indra, the stone-bearer, would quickly grant them their wishes with his aid. Among all, there was none other than Indra whom they found worthy—for wealth, for riches, for glory, and for strength. He was the lover of song, and so they poured the Soma for him, the honeyed elixir that stirred his greatness. Approaching the lord of the bays, the skilled and generous one, they sang his praises, confident that he would hear. Truly, there had never been a hero greater than Indra—neither in wealth, nor in gifts, nor in contests. And so, the officiant was called to pour the exhilarating, intoxicating drink, as the ever-strong hero was praised anew. Indra, steadfast among his bays, received fresh songs of praise; by his might, the hymns rose up, unrestrained. He was invoked as the lord of prizes, called upon for fame, that he might be increased by sacrifices that never failed. Once more, the friends raised their voices to praise Indra, the man most worthy of song, who alone had protected all peoples. For those who sought cattle, for the strong and the brilliant, noble speech was offered—sweeter than clarified butter and honey. Indra’s powers were immeasurable; his generosity could not be surpassed. Like light, his right hand pervaded all. They praised him as the one with the face of a horse, the wave, the prize-winner, the restrainer—he who divided the life of the arrogant for the Arya, for the sake of the worshipper. Now, the singers turned their praise to the tenth and ninth Vaiyasva, the wise and praiseworthy among their kind. They acknowledged Indra, the wielder of the bolt, as the one who knew the paths of destruction, who cleansed day by day, as if wiping away footprints. They beseeched Indra to bring forth that power by which he was most mighty in deed; to urge on the Kutsas for a second time and not to hold back. They sought him anew, in his freshest strength, that he might overcome all hostilities for them. They bowed to him who released them from sin and want in the seven rivers, the slayer of the Dasa, mighty in strength. As he had once brought wealth to the excellent Suṣāman, they prayed that he would bring riches to his companions, to the fortunate, to those who possessed horses. They called for the reward of the generous woman, of the Soma-presser—abundant wealth with a hundred and a thousand cattle. When the knowing one asked Indra with cunning, for the sake of cunning, even the hidden Vala stood by the rich one. Thus, the worshippers remained ever attentive to the ways of Indra. Turning their thoughts to other guardians, the singers honored those two, Mitra and Varuṇa, upholders of truth and worthy of sacrifice among the gods. They were the guardians of all, to be worshipped with purified skill. Mitra, like a son of the chariot, and Varuṇa, whose wisdom was excellent, had since ancient times produced noble offspring steadfast in their vows. Their mother, Aditi, great in might and knowing all worlds, gave birth to them for sovereignty, she who was rich in truth. Mitra and Varuṇa, great sovereigns and lords of power, upheld truth and were covered in glory, proclaiming a mighty sound. Sons of strength and greatness, offspring of skill and wisdom, givers of gifts, they established abundance in the dwelling. They restrained the gifts, both celestial and earthly, and for them the rain-clouds, full of water, moved at their command. Upon the vast heaven, as over a herd, Mitra and Varuṇa watched over all, upholders of truth and sovereigns. To them, the singers bowed, recognizing their help. They prayed that the two would sit for sovereignty, endowed with wisdom, steadfast in their vows, royal and dominant. With unclouded vision, Mitra and Varuṇa knew the path; ever watchful, they did not close their eyes or look away. The singers prayed for the graciousness of the goddess Aditi, for the two Aśvins, and for the Maruts of increasing might, that all might bestow their blessings. Thus, the hymns of praise to Indra, Mitra, Varuṇa, Aditi, the Aśvins, and the Maruts rose up—seeking strength, wealth, protection, and abundance for all who sang.