WHAT worthy praise will bring before us Indra, the Son of Strength, that he may grant us riches; For he the Hero, gives the singer treasures: he is the Lord who sends us gifts, ye people.
To be invoked and hymned in fight with Vṛtra, that well-praised Indra gives us real bounties. That Maghavan brings comfort in the foray to the religious man who pours libations.
Him, verily, the men invoke in combat; risking their lives they make him their protector, When heroes, foe to foe, give up their bodies, fighting, each side, for children and their offspring.
Strong God! the folk at need put forth their vigour, striving together in the whirl of battle. When warrior bands encounter one another some in the grapple quit themselves like Indra.
Hence many a one worships the might of Indra: hence let the brew succeed the meal-oblation. Hence let the Soma banish those who pour not: even hence I joy to pay the Strong One worship.
Indra gives comfort to the man who truly presses, for him who longs for it, the Soma, Not disaffected, with devoted spirit this man he takes to be his friend in battles.
He who this day for Indra presses Soma, prepares the brew and fries the grains of barley— Loving the hymns of that devoted servant, to him may Indra give heroic vigour.
When the impetuous chief hath sought the conflict, and the lord looked upon the long-drawn battle, The matron calls to the Strong God whom pressers of Soma have encouraged in the dwelling.
He bid a small price for a thing of value: I was content, returning, still unpurchased. He heightened not his insufficient offer. Simple and clever, both milk out the udder.
Who for ten milch-kine purchaseth from me this Indra who is mine? When he hath slain the Vṛtras let the buyer give him back to me.
Now, Indra! lauded, glorified with praises, let wealth swell high like rivers for the singer. For thee a new hymn, Lord of Bays, is fashioned. May we, car-borne, through song be victors ever.
