Rig Veda

Book 7, Hymn XXXI. Indra

1. SING ye a song, to make him glad, to Indra, Lord of Tawny Steeds,
The Soma-drinker, O my friends.

2 To him the Bounteous say the laud, and let us glorify, as men May do, the Giver of true gifts.

3 O Indra, Lord of boundless might, for us thou winnest strength and kine,
Thou winnest gold for us, Good Lord.

4 Faithful to thee we loudly sing, heroic Indra, songs to thee: Mark, O Good Lord, this act of ours.

5 Give us not up to man's reproach, to foeman's hateful calumny: In thee alone is all my strength.

6 Thou art mine ample coat of mail, my Champion, Vṛtra-Slayer, thou:
With thee for Friend I brave the foe.

7 Yea, great art thou whose conquering might two independent Powers confess.
The Heaven, O India, and the Earth.

8 So let the voice surround thee, which attends the Maruts on their way,
Reaching thee with the rays of light.

9 Let the ascending drops attain to thee, the Wondrous God, in heaven:
Let all the folk bow down to thee.

10 Bring to the Wise, the Great, who waxeth mighty, your offerings, and make ready your devotion;
To many clans he goeth, man's controller.

11 For Indra, the sublime, the far-pervading, have singers generated prayer and praises:
The sages never violate his statutes.

12 The choirs have stablished Indra King for ever, for victory, him whose anger is resistless:
And, for the Bays' Lord, strengthened those he loveth.