If I, O Indra, were, like thee, the single sovran of all wealth. My worshipper should be rich in kine.
I should be fain, O Lord of Might, to strengthen and enrich the sage, Were I the lord of herds of kine,
To worshippers who press the juice thy goodness, Indra, is a cow. Yielding in plenty kine and steeds.
None is there, Indra, God or man, to hinder thy munificence, The wealth which, lauded, thou wilt give.
The sacrifice made Indra strong when he unrolled the earth and made Himself a diaden in heaven.
Thine aid we claim, O Indra, thine who after thou hast waxen great. Hast won all treasures for thine own.
