Thou hast slain them all, O mighty Indra! The Dāsas who rose up in their darkness have been cast down. Their chariots lie broken upon the field. Their warriors cry out no more. Thy victory is complete and terrible to behold.

In ages past, when the world was young and chaos reigned, thou didst stand forth to battle the enemies of order. With thy thunderbolt thou didst smite them down. With thy lightning thou didst burn away their darkness. The very stones did dance at thy coming.

The asuras fell like autumn leaves before the wind. Their fortresses crumbled into dust. Their treasures became thy spoil. Their women and children were taken into bondage. Not a single one escaped thy wrath. None could hide from thy all-seeing eye.

Thou art the vanquisher of foes! The slayer of demons! The protector of the righteous! When a man crieth out in his distress, thou hearest his prayer and comest to his aid. When the weak are oppressed by the strong, thou dost arise and smite the oppressor.

Therefore we sing thy praises, O Indra, victor supreme! Accept our hymns of thanksgiving. We offer unto thee the finest soma and the richest ghee. Grant us thy protection as thou hast protected our fathers before us. Make us victorious in all our battles. Turn thy face toward us and smile, that we may know thy favor and dwell in peace.