In the midst of the great contests, the bull was yoked deep in the mire, while his charioteer, with flowing hair, stood below, guiding the way. Swiftly the runners of the yoked cow sped onward, their pace sure and true, and for Mudgalānī, they reached the goal. The wise one, understanding the nature of the contest, struck his rival and advanced along the path, learning the ways of victory. Indra, lord of the unyoked, strode forward, urging the herds onward with his mighty steps, his crest high above all. The braided one moved like a goad, driven by a wooden stick in the contest for the prize. Performing heroic deeds for the sake of many, he touched the cows and drew strength from them. There, yoked to the bull and lying amidst the woods, the driver rested. By his efforts, Mudgala won a hundred, a thousand cattle in the fierce contests of battle. Who, far away, has truly seen him—this one whom they yoke or set in place? For him, no grass nor water is brought; the upper yoke bears the burden, ever directed forward. The chariot, old yet enduring, swells like a water channel and pours forth like a wife seeking her beloved in a deserted place. With this chariot, may we, too, win; may good fortune and victory be ours. Indra, you are the very eye of all that moves, the eye of vision itself. Like a bull, you lead the contest of the strong, urging onward the unyoked with your companion. Swift and fierce as a mighty bull, Indra is terrifying in battle, a smasher of hosts and a stirrer of men. His shout unblinking, he stands as the sole hero, conquering with a hundred hosts together. With him, the victorious and impetuous war-cry rises; he is bold and unyielding. By Indra’s might, let us win; let us stand firm together in battle with the great one who holds the arrow. Indra, leader of warriors with arrows and quivers, conquers with his troop. Victorious in the assembled combat, he drinks Soma, strong-armed and fierce-bowed, weapons drawn and unwavering. O Bṛhaspati, circle with your chariot, destroyer of demons and foes, breaking enemy hosts and protecting our chariots. Indra, steadfast and supremely heroic, stands upon the conquering chariot, bestower of cattle, breaker of enclosures, and knower of cattle. His arms are like thunderbolts, shattering with power. Companions, emulate this Indra, your kinsman; unite together in strength. Indra, the hero with a hundred powers, plunges against barriers with irresistible force, destroying the wicked. Let our army prevail in the fight. Let Indra lead us, together with Bṛhaspati and Right, with the sacrifice and Soma going before; among the divine hosts that break through and conquer, let the Maruts advance at the front. The mighty voice of Indra the bull rises, joined by King Varuṇa, the Ādityas, and the fierce troop of Maruts—by all the great-minded, world-moving gods—proclaiming victory. O bountiful one, rouse the weapons and stir the minds of my eager warriors. Let the victorious cries of chariot-fighters, horsemen, and the slayers of Vṛtra rise up. May Indra be with us among the assembled banners; may our arrows be victorious, our heroes supreme. O gods, protect us when we call for aid. Confound the minds of our enemies, seize their limbs, drive them away, and burn their hearts with flames. Let them be joined with blinding darkness. Go forth and conquer, O men; may Indra grant you protection. Let your arms be strong and invincible, as you desire. Soma has been pressed for you, Indra, much-invoked one; come with your steeds to the sacrifice. For you, inspired songs are raised—drink of the pressed Soma. Drink here, Indra, of the Soma purified in the waters, together with men. Fill yourself with the pressed juice; the stones have pressed it for you—grow strong with them, bringer of exhilaration and praise. To you, mighty one, I offer the foremost draught, the true drink of Soma, Indra with tawny steeds. Rejoice here with the cows, with all the hymns, praised by every song. By your strength, O powerful one, wise priests, bearers of vigor, have stood firm in the homes of men, praising you in the assembly. With your guidance, Indra of the tawny steeds, people of fair speech and joy have bestowed the greatest aid, offering praise with generous words. Come to the hymns, Indra, with your steeds, to drink the pressed Soma. The sacrifice calls you—the worthy, the wise, the giver. The mighty, thousand-powered, foe-crushing, Soma-drinking, generous Indra is adorned by the songs of worshippers, unconquered and honored by the singer. The seven divine, untainted waters, O Indra, with which you first filled the Sindhu, flow together—ninety-nine streams and nine more—you find a path for gods and for man. Release us, O mighty waters, from the great curse; awake, O god, you alone. Indra, with those waters by which you conquered the foe, nourish your whole being. Indra is heroic, wise, and well-praised; even the nourishing cows seek him. He struck down the foe, created space, and overcame the hosts in battle. May we call upon generous Indra in this contest, the best among men for winning strength, the fierce one who listens to prayers in battles, who strikes down foes and wins riches. When, O gracious one, will our song be pleasing to you? When will you, who restrain the doors, come to us? May the long-pressed Soma be invigorating. His two bay steeds, well-yoked and unbound, swift as war-horses, are harnessed; both lines of the reins are in the hands of the lord. Indra drives away the evil-doers, as a weary and afraid mortal flees, when he, strong, has yoked his splendid team. Indra, together with his companions, is praised; the hero, worshipped by those who approach, makes the two rivers resound as they flow apart. He who stood above, with flowing hair, wide-spread for increase, conquers with his adorned jaws. The mighty one sent forth his strength among the strong; the hero shaped it with his power, like an artisan with skill, like Mātariśvan with wisdom. He who fashioned the thunderbolt for the destruction of the foe, with eager might and jaws unyielding, wondrous as the sky—he is praised in hymns. Drive away our sins, O you who are praised; may we overcome the unrighteous. No unoffered prayer, no sacrifice, pleases you. May your triple support stand upright in the yokes of sacrifice, in your dwelling; may you, united, accompany the boat of your own glory.