The over-rolling gift, wherewith Indra once did cast his foes beneath him— with that same might, O Brahman-spirit, roll thou us unto kingship.

Thou that hast rolled down the foemen, the haters of our house, stand thou high o’er the war-bringer, high o’er him that envieth us.

God Savitar hath fashioned thee, and Soma hath made thee to roll— made thee roll o’er all that liveth, that thou shouldst be the Over-roller.

The gift whereby Indra, when he made his offering, rose most bright and high, that gift have I now brought, O ye gods; therefore am I made peerless.

Peerless, foe-smiter, rolling toward the throne, winning far and wide— that I may hold sway over all these beings and over the folk of the land.