1SING, with oblation, praise to him who maketh glad, who with Ṛjiśvan drove the dusky brood away.     Fain for help, him the strong whose right hand wields the bolt, him girt by Maruts we invoke to be our Friend.

2Indra, who with triumphant wrath smote Vyaṁsa down, and Śambara, and Pipru the unrighteous one;     Who extirpated Śuṣṇa the insatiate,—him girt by Maruts we invoke to be our Friend.

3He whose great work of manly might is heaven and earth, and Varuṇa and Sūrya keep his holy law;     Indra, whose law the rivers follow as they flow,—him girt by Maruts we invoke to be our Friend.

4He who is Lord and Master of the steeds and kine, honoured—the firm and sure—at every holy act;     Stayer even of the strong who pours no offering out,—him girt by Maruts we invoke to be our Friend.

5He who is Lord of all the world that moves and breathes, who for the Brahman first before all found the Cows;     Indra who cast the Dasyus down beneath his feet,—him girt by Maruts we invoke to be our Friend.

6Whom cowards must invoke and valiant men of war, invoked by those who conquer and by those who flee;     Indra, to whom all beings turn their constant thought,—him girt by Maruts we invoke to be our Friend.

7Refulgent in the Rudras’ region he proceeds, and with the Rudras through the wide space speeds the Dame.     The hymn of praise extols Indra the far-renowned: him girt by Maruts we invoke to be our Friend.

8O girt by Maruts, whether thou delight thee in loftiest gathering-place or lowly dwelling,     Come thence unto our rite, true boon-bestower: through love of thee have we prepared oblations.

9We, fain for thee, strong Indra, have pressed Soma, and, O thou sought with prayer, have made oblations.     Now at this sacrifice, with all thy Maruts, on sacred grass, O team-borne God, rejoice thee.

10Rejoice thee with thine own Bay Steeds, O Indra, unclose thy jaws and let thy lips be open.     Thou with the fair cheek, let thy Bay Steeds bring thee: gracious to us, he pleased with our oblation.

11Guards of the camp whose praisers are the Maruts, may we through Indra, get ourselves the booty.     This prayer of ours may Varuṇa grant, and Mitra, and Aditi and Sindhu, Earth and Heaven.