Rig Veda

Mandal - 8 (Part - 8)

HYMN 59 Indra

1

HE who, as Sovran Lord of men, moves with his chariots unrestrained,
The Vrtra-slayer vanquisher, of fighting hosts, preeminent, is praised with song.

2

Honour that Indra, Puruhanman! for his aid, in whose sustaining hand of old,
The splendid bolt of thunder was deposited, as the great Sun was set in heaven.

3

No one by deed attains to him who works and strengthens evermore:
No, not by sacrifice, to Indra. praised o all, resistless, daring, bold in might.

4

The potent Conqueror, invincible in war, him at whose birth the Mighty Ones,
The Kine who spread aftar, sent their loud voices out, heavens, earths seat their loud voices out,

5

O Indra, if a hundred heavens and if a hundred earths were thine-
No, not a thousand Suns could match thee at thy birth, not both the worlds, O Thunderer.

6

Thou, Hero, hast performed thy hero deeds with might, yea, all with strength, O Strongest One.
Maghavan, help us to a stable full of kine, O Thunderer, with wondrous aids.

7

Let not a godless mortal gain this food, O thou whose life is long!
But one who yokes the bright-hued steeds, the Etasas, even Indra yoker of the Bays.

8

Urge ye the Conqueror to give, your Indra greatly to be praised,
To be invoked in shallow waters and in depths, to be invoked in deeds of might.

9

O Vasu, O thou Hero, raise us up to ample opulence.
Raise us to gain of mighty wealth, O Maghavan, O Indra, to sublime renown.

10

Indra, thou justifiest us, and tramplest down thy slanderers.
Guard thyself, valiant Hero, in thy vital parts: strike down the Dasa with thy blows.

11

The man who brings no sacrifice, inhuman, godless, infidel,
Him let his friend the mountain cast to rapid death, the mountain cast the Dasyu down.

12

O Mightiest Indra, loving us, gather thou up, as grains of corn,
Within thine hand, of these their kine, to give away, yea, gather twice as loving us.

13

O my companions, wish for power. How may we perfect Sara's praise,
The liberal princely patron, never to be harmed?

14

By many a sage whose grass is trimmed thou art continually praised,
That thou, O Sara, hast bestowed here one and here another'calf.

15

The noble, Suradeva's son, hath brought a calf, led by the car to three of us.
As a chief brings a goat to milk.