HYMN LVII. Indra.

Rig Veda, tr. by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1896], at sacred-texts.com

HYMN LVII. Indra.

1. EVEN as a car to give us aid, we draw thee hither for our bliss,
Strong in thy deeds, checking assault, Lord, Mightiest Indra, of the brave!
2 Great in thy power and wisdom, Strong, with thought that comprehendeth all
Thou hast filled full with majesty.
3 Thou very Mighty One, whose hands by virtue of thy greatness grasp,
The golden bolt that breaks its way.
4 Your Lord of might that ne’er hath bent, that ruleth over all mankind,
I call, that he, as he is wont, may aid the chariots and the men.
5 Whom, ever furthering, in frays that win the light, in both the hosts
Men call to succour and to help.
6 Indra, the Strong, the measureless, worthy of praise, Most Bountiful,
Sole Ruler even over wealth.
7 Him, for his ample bounty, him, this Indra do I urge to drink,
Who, as his praise was sung of old, the Dancer, is the Lord of men.
8 Thou Mighty One, whose friendship none of mortals ever hath obtained
None will attain unto thy might.
9 Aided by thee, with thee allied, in frays for water and for sun,
Bolt-armed! may we win ample spoil.
10 So seek we thee with sacrifice and songs, chief Lover of the Song,
As, in our battles Indra, thou to Purumayya gavest help.
11 O Thunderer, thou whose friendship and whose onward guidance both are sweet,
Thy sacrifice must be prepared.
12 To us, ourselves, give ample room, give for our dwelling ample room
Give ample room to us to live.
13 We count the banquet of the Gods a spacious pathway for the men,
And for the cattle, and the car.
14 Six men, yea, two and two, made glad with Soma juice, come near to me
With offerings pleasant to the taste.
15 Two brown-hued steeds, Indrota's gift, two bays from Rksa's son were mine,
From Asvamedha's son two red.
16 From Atithigva good car-steeds; from Arksa rein-obeying steeds,
From Asvamedha beauteous ones.
17 Indrota, Atithigva's son, gave me six horses matched with mares
And Patakratu gave besides.
18 Marked above all, amid the brown, is the red mare Vṛṣanvati,
Obedient to the rein and whip.
19 O bound to me by deeds of might, not even the man who loves to blame.
Hath found a single fault in you.