2 On thee for aid in sacrifice. This youth of ours, the bold, the mighty, hath gonse forth. We therefore, we thy friends, Indra, havie chosen thee, free-giver, as our Guardian God.
4 For we the kinless singers have drawn hither thee, O Indra, who hast numerous kin. With all the forms thou hast, comic thou of bull-like strength, come near to drink the Soma juice.
6 We speak to thee with this our reverential prayer. Why art thou pondering yet awhile? Here are our wishes; thou art liberal, Lord of Bays: we and our hymns are present here.
nū́tnā íd indra te vayám ūtī́ abhūma nahí nū́ te adrivaḥ | vidmā́ purā́ párīṇasaḥ ||
7 For not in recent times alone, O Indra, Thunder-armed, have we obtained thine aid. Of old we knew thy plenteous wealth.
8 Hero, we knew thy friendship and thy rich rewards: these, Thunderer, now we crave of thee. O Vasu, for all wealth that cometh of the kine, sharpen our powers, fair-visored God.
yó na idám-idam purā́ prá vásya āninā́ya tám u va stuṣe | sákhāya índram ūtáye ||
9 Him who of old hath brought to us this and that blessing, him I magnify for you, Even Indra, O my friends, for help
háriaśvaṃ sátpatiṃ carṣaṇīsáhaṃ sá hí ṣmā yó ámandata | ā́ tú naḥ sá vayati gávyam áśviyaṃ stotŕ̥bhyo maghávā śatám ||
10 Borne by Bay Steeds, the Lord of heroes, ruling men, for it is he who takes; delight. May Maghavan bestow on us his worshippers hundreds of cattle and of steeds.
12 May we be victors in the singer's battlesong, and meet the wicked, Much invoked! With heroes smite the foeman and show forth our strength. O Indra, further thou our thoughts.
13 O Indra, from all ancient time rivalless ever and companionless art thou: Thou seekest comradeship in war.
nákī revántaṃ sakhiyā́ya vindase pī́yanti te surāśúvaḥ | yadā́ kr̥ṇóṣi nadanúṃ sám ūhasi ā́d ít pitéva hūyase ||
14 Thou findest not the wealthy man to be thy friend: those scorn thee who are flown with wine. What time thou thunderest and gatherest, then thou, even as a Father, art invoked.
mā́ te amājúro yathā mūrā́sa indra sakhiyé tuvā́vataḥ | ní ṣadāma sácā suté ||
15 O Indra, let us not, like fools who waste their lives at home, with friendship such as thine Sit idly by the poured-out juice.
mā́ te godatra nír arāma rā́dhasa índra mā́ te gr̥hāmahi | dr̥̄ḷhā́+ cid aryáḥ prá mr̥śābhi ā́ bhara ná te dāmā́na ādábhe ||
16 Giver of kine, may we not miss thy gracious gifts: let us not rob thee of thine own. Strip even the strong places of the foe, and bring: thy gifts can never be made vain.
18 Citra is King, and only kinglings are the rest who dwell beside Sarasvatī. He, like Parjanya with his rain, hath spread himself with thousand, yea, with myriad gifts.
Complete text
Maṇḍala I