I shall indeed boil over, said Indra, when I bring my might to bear for him who presses and pours, the one who sacrifices with truth.
Yet I smite the dry-handed—the one who brings no milk and no blend, he who harms the just and follows crooked paths—he is nothing.

Then the singer raised his voice:
I shall drive the godless to the field of strife, those puffed up in their flesh, who heed not the gods.

At my hearth shall I roast a swelling bull for thee, O god, and pour the soma, sharp and strong, fifteenfold.

Indra answered:
I know none who speak as thou, not after felling the godless in battle.
Only once the clash is joined and the mettle tested do they name to me their bulls and press the draught.

Once I dwelt in lands unknown, yet even there, folk gave freely to me, for I was present.
Still, even here, if the vain man rests in peace, I shall strip him bare, as I did the one who dwelt upon the hill—caught him by the foot and cast him down.

They shall not fence me in with one folk or one hill, for when I will it, I go where I please.

Even he with an ear shrunken from fear shall tremble at my cry.
Yea, the dust shall rise day by day at my passing.

He shall behold them—those who drink the cooked milk, yet offer not to Indra the fore-shank; those who play the master’s part, bearing bows as kings, and those who scorn their burning-hearted kin.

Let the wheels roll o’er them all.

Thou art risen, thou art grown, thou hast run thy course.
Now shall the foe before thee be broken— and the one behind shall likewise fall.

Not even heaven and earth together can hold the one who hath toiled to the far shore of this airy span.

The cows scattered, eating the stranger’s grain; I beheld them wander under foreign hand.
The stranger’s cries rose up on all sides.
How long, I ask, shall their own lord delight in them still?

When I gather those who graze upon the fields and grains of men, I shall round them all in one broad pasture.

The yoked beast shall seek unyoking, and he who seeks to bind shall seize the unbound.

Then, and only then, shall ye know my word is true— that I shall bring together the two-footed and the four.

Let any who dares fight the bull with women come forth; I, whom none withstand, shall deal out his goods.

A father with a daughter born blind—
Who, knowing her blindness, would raise hand against him?
Yet if he knows not her plight, which man shall bear the burden?
The one who wooed her, or he who wedded her in ignorance?

How far unlike is the maiden adorned with worthy gift, chosen and bright on every side, from the eager youth who seeks a bride in haste?
She is favored and found, when decked in fair array; she winneth a friend in open sight.

He swalloweth from the foot, devoureth what lieth before him.
He flareth up, a helm of flame, and sitting, burneth the upright kindling in his lap.
Bending low, he runs along the earth that stretches upward.

Lofty is the steed, but without leaf or shade.
The mother stands still; the unborn one feeds freely.
She loweth, licking the calf not her own.
Tell me, in what form was the milk-cow's udder laid bare?

From the south rose seven mighty men, from the north came eight, and they were joined.
From the west, nine with grain upon their backs; from the east, ten crossed the rock’s crown.

One dusky flame, shared by the ten fingers, they spurred on to firm resolve.

The mother bore the babe content within her, though he sought no thing, and she asked for naught.

The strong men roasted a fat ram;
dice lay scattered where they played their game.
Two roamed the upper plain with filters set, cleansing the draught in the waters.

Shrieking they fled, each to his own way— one half shall boil, the other not.

And Savitar speaketh unto me:
“Only he whose food is wood and ghee shall prevail.”

I saw the year’s host marching far off,
wheeling without a wheel, turning by its own will.
It leadeth on the seed of strangers’ kind, shearing their tails, even as it reneweth itself.

Two oxen yoked for the Pounder draw near.
Hold them back a while—wait but a breath.
Even the waters find their end in this one’s path, for he is born anew as the Striker beneath the sun.

This mace is cast in many wise beneath the high sun’s shining.
Yet there is another fame beyond this one, and thither, without faltering, old age shall cross.

Bound in each tree the cow shall bellow; from her shall fly the flame-winged birds.

Then shall all this world stand afeared, though soma is pressed for Indra, and the seer is served in full.

The first god halted at the setting of the bounds; the others rose where the place was cleft.

Three moist lands warm the earth beneath, and two steeds bear the stammering one to fullness.

This is thy breath and thy way of life—
see it, and hide it not in the clash.
When the sun showeth itself, it driveth back the mist.
Its foot is freed, as if loosed from a cloak.