Rigveda 8.32

Kaṇvas, tell forth with song the deeds of Indra, the Impetuous, Wrought in the Soma's wild delight.

Strong God, he slew Anarṣani, Sṛibinda, Pipru, and the fiend, Ahîṣuva, and loosed the floods.

Thou broughtest down the dwelling-place, the height of lofty Arbuda. That exploit, Indra, must be famed.

Bold, to your famous Soma I call the fair-visored God for aid, Down like a torrent from the hill.

Rejoicing in the Soma-draughts, Hero, burst open, like a fort, The stall of horses and of kine.

If my libation gladdens, if thou takest pleasure in my laud, Come with thy Godhead from afar.

O Indra, Lover of the Song, the singers of thy praise are we: O Soma-drinker, quicken us.

And, taking thy delight with us bring us still undiminished food: Great is thy wealth, O Maghavan.

Make thou us rich in herds of kine, in steeds, in gold: let us exert Our strength in sacrificial gifts.

Let us call him to aid whose hands stretch far, to whom high laud is due. Who worketh well to succour us.

He, Ṣatakratu, even in fight acts as a Vṛitra-slayer s,till: He gives his worshippers much wealth.

May he, this A;akra, strengthen us, Boon God who satisfies our needs, Indra, with all lhis saving helps.

To him, the mighty stream of wealth, the Soma-presser's rescuing Friend, To Indra sing your song of praise;

Who bringeth what is great and firm, who winneth glory in his wars, Lord of vast wealth through power and might.

There liveth none to cheek or stay his energies and gracious deeds: None who can say, He giveth not.

No debt is due by Brahmans now, by active men who press the juice: Well hath each Soma-draught been paid.

Sing ye to him who must be praised, say lauds to him who must be praised, Bring prayer to him who must be praised.

May be, unchecked, strong, meet for praise, bring hundreds, thousands forth to light, Indra who aids the worshipper.

Go with thy God-like nature forth, go where the folk are calling thee: Drink, Indra, of the drops we pour.

Drink milky draughts which are thine own, this too which was with Tugrya once, This is it, Indra, that is thine.

Pass him who psours libations out in angry mood or after sin: Here drink the juice we offer thee.

Over the three great distances, past the Five Peoples go thy way, O Indra, noticing our voice.

Send forth thy ray like Sûrya: let my songs attract thee hitherward, Like waters gathering to the vale.

Now to the Hero fair of cheek, Adhvaryu, pour the Soma forth: Bring of the juice that he may drink

Who cleft the water-cloud in twain, loosed rivers for their downward flow, And set the ripe milk in the kine.

He, meet for praise, slew Vṛitra, slew Ahîṣuva, Ûrṇavâbha's son, And pierced through Arbuda with frost.

To him your matchless Mighty One, unconquerable Conqueror, Sing forth the prayer which Gods have given:

Indra, who in the wild delight of Soma juice considers here All holy Laws among the Gods.

Hither let these thy Bays who share thy banquet, Steeds with golden manes, Convey thee to the feast prepared.

Hither, O thou whom many laud, the Bays whom Priyamedha praised, Shall bring thee to the Soma-draught.