In the highest realms, two mighty kings sit unshaken upon their exalted throne, upheld by a thousand pillars of strength. These sovereigns are the Adityas, lords of generosity, who take delight in the endless, unbroken stream of sacred ghee offered to them. In that same celestial sphere, Indra stands unconquered, having vanquished ninety-nine adversaries with the formidable bones of Dadhichi as his weapon. Indra’s quest once led him to seek the horse’s head, concealed deep within the mountains. With the swift falcon as his ally, he discovered this hidden prize. In those ancient days, the seekers also pursued the name of the sacred cow, the offspring of Tvashtar, and thus, their search brought them to the abode of the moon. This, then, is the ancient praise sung for Indra and Agni, a hymn born from the mind of the radiant one, pouring forth like rain from a nourishing cloud. The singer’s invocation rises to Indra and Agni, calling them to accept these heartfelt songs and to nourish the thoughts of the devoted. The prayer is earnest: may Indra and Agni never lead us to evil or reproach, nor bring harm to our dwelling. Now, the tawny Soma flows forth, skillfully prepared for the gods to drink, bringing exhilaration especially to the Maruts and to Vāyu. Among the gods, the powerful poet Soma shines resplendent in his place of origin, pure and unassailable. Purified by thought, roaring as he approaches his destined womb, Soma ascends to Vāyu, following his own divine law. Seeking friendship with Soma, the tawny Indu, the devotee prays daily for his favor, yearning for the many joys he brings and longing for that circle of delight. Night and day, the seeker approaches Soma’s flowing stream, longing so deeply that he soars beyond the burning sun itself, like a bird in flight. Soma, the wise one, purifies himself and steps forth, overcoming all enmity. The inspired adorn him with their thoughts. The reddish Soma mounts the womb, strong and pressed, coming to Indra to take his place upon the steadfast seat. The prayer continues: O Soma, pour forth abundant wealth from all sides, let your flow bring thousands of blessings. Indra is then invited to drink the Soma, that exhilarating nectar pressed by the stones and guided by the presser’s skilled arms. Let this exhilaration, yoked and lovely, be the same by which Indra, swift-bayed and mighty, slew the Vṛtras; may it bring him delight once more. The generous one is called to listen well to these praises, offered by Vasiṣṭha, and to accept these hymns at the shared feast. All the hosts of men, with their companions, have fashioned Indra for kingship, for strength, for the highest station, for vast power—the fierce, the most powerful, swift in force. The wise ones gaze intently, bending the rim as they chant, while the blameless, shining followers of Indra join the song with attentive ears. United, the singers call Indra to drink the Soma, and as the steadfast lord of bounty grows strong with his bands, he is fortified with might. This is Indra: king of peoples, rider on chariots, tireless, destroyer of all hosts, foremost and slayer of Vṛtra—he is the one who is praised. Glorify Indra, rich in gifts and help, whose hand wields the bolt, set there by the wise ordainer; he is the great god, shining and visible like the sun. The beloved poet of heaven, set upon the paths of the divine offspring, moves with his own sounds, endowed with the wisdom of poets. This pure son was born from his mothers, shining with greatness from birth, growing mighty by the cosmic order. Unwearied, Soma is poured out for the blameless and undiminished people, bringing them increase and vigor. Indeed, O Pavamana, you are the most radiant among the divine births, proclaiming immortality. By you, the Navagvas and Dadhyanc were filled, by you the inspired ones attained their goal, by you the gods’ favor and the sweet nectar were won, and by you fame was acquired. Soma, purified, rushes through the filter in a wave, roaring at the forefront, his voice resounding. With prayers, the people cleanse the vigorous one in the wooden vessel, as he plays like swift horses; hymns resound together around the triple-backed one. He, the generous one, flows around the vessels like a charioteer eager for victory; purified, he generates speech and sends it forth. Soma, thus purified, is the creator of thoughts, of heaven, of earth, of Agni, of the Sun, of Indra, and also of Vishnu. He is the priest among gods, the path of sages, the seer of the inspired, the bull among wild beasts, the eagle among vultures, the sustainer of forests—Soma, roaring, passes through the filter. He advances with speech like a wave, like a river, with hymns and thoughts, O Pavamana; seeing within, he stands among the cows, the bull who knows the lower realms. To Agni, the increaser of sacrifices and most generous, the descendant of strength, we direct our thoughts. As Tvashtar has shaped him, as a craftsman fashions forms, so by his will is the glory of the renowned one established. Agni, lord among gods, surpasses all splendors; may he come to us bearing rewards. Indra is invited once more: drink this pressed Soma, the greatest, immortal exhilaration; the bright streams have flowed to you in the seat of truth. No charioteers surpass you, O Indra, when you harness your bay steeds; none can match your path, none can reach you by their own horses. Thus flows the ancient story—of gods enthroned and praised, of Soma’s journey and power, of Indra’s might and the blessings poured upon the faithful.