Hear now the tale of Indra's glory! The tale that Vasiṣṭha, the bard divine, doth sing unto the warriors and unto the gods themselves. In days of old, the great king Sudās did call upon the mighty Indra, and behold, the thunderer did come forth to battle.

For Sudās was beset upon all sides by enemies unnumbered. Ten kings—ten mighty kings—did gather against him, their armies flowing like a plague of locusts across the land. From every quarter they came: Bheda the fierce, and Śambara the master of illusions. There came the Turvaśas with their terrible might; there came the Yakṣus crying out for blood. The Anu-s gathered; the Druhyus marched forth. Five more kings did assemble their hosts: Pakthas and Bhalānas and Ālinas, each one seeking to crush the king of the Tritsu people.

The Paruṣṇī River ran between them—the sacred river, giver of life. But now it became a barrier, now a weapon in the hands of the gods themselves.

Then Indra came—the Bull, the Thunderer, the Lord of the Bay Horses. With him came the Maruts, the storm gods, and the Ṛbhus, those clever workers of divine crafts. Indra's voice was like unto ten thousand thunders; his laughter shook the very foundations of the earth. The enemies beheld him and their hearts grew cold as winter stone.

The battle was joined! Arrows flew like hail; spears like lightning bolts. The clash of shield on shield was a sound like mountains grinding one against the other. The ten kings, with their armies countless as the stars, pressed forth against Sudās—but Indra stood between them like an iron wall.

And then the god did raise his voice unto the Paruṣṇī River, and lo, the waters that had been calm became as turbulent as a wrathful serpent. The river rose up—rose up in a great flood against the enemies of Sudās. The armies of the ten kings were caught upon its banks. Those on horseback were swept away; those on foot were drowned. The chariots were shattered like toys of clay.

Bheda the fierce king—he perished in those waters. Śambara the master of demons was cast down. The Turvaśas, screaming, were overwhelmed. The Yakṣus, who had thought themselves mighty, were reduced to nothing.

The Paruṣṇī River flowed red with the blood of the enemies. The field was strewn with broken chariots and the bodies of the slain. The survivors fled in terror before the thunderer's wrath.

Thus did Indra deliver his chosen king! Thus did he prove that none can stand against the Bull of heaven. Sudās, by the grace of Indra, was victorious. His enemies were vanquished; his kingdom was secure.

O Indra, thou mighty one! Thou drinkest of the soma that the priests do press for thee. When thou drinkest, thy belly is filled with rapture, and thy strength increaseth a thousandfold. All the gods obey thy will; all the demons flee from thy approach.

Be thou our protector as thou wast the protector of Sudās! Grant unto us victory over our enemies; grant unto us triumph in our struggles. When we call upon thy name with voices raised in hymn, hear thou our prayer and come forth to aid us.

The story of the ten kings shall be told forevermore. The bards shall sing it; the mothers shall tell it unto their children. Let all men know that Indra, the Thunderer, the Bull, the Lord of the Bay Horses, is the greatest of all gods—and that whosoever placeth his faith in Indra shall never want for victory.

We praise thee, O mighty Indra! We honor thee with our hymns and our offerings of soma. Be thou our friend and our protector, now and forevermore.