Rig Veda. Book 8
Various
Hindu
4:39 h
The Rigveda (Sanskrit: ऋग्वेद ṛgveda, from ṛc “praise” and veda “knowledge”) is an ancient Indian collection of Vedic Sanskrit hymns along with associated commentaries on liturgy, ritual and mystical exegesis. It is one of the four sacred canonical texts (śruti) of Hinduism known as the Vedas. The core text, known as the Rigveda Samhita, is a collection of 1,028 hymns (sūktas) in about 10,600 verses (called ṛc, eponymous of the name Rigveda), organized into ten books (maṇḍalas). In the eight books that were composed the earliest, the hymns are mostly praise of specific deities. The younger books (books 1 and 10) in part also deal with philosophical or speculative questions, with the virtue of dāna (charity) in society and with other metaphysical issues in their hymns.
The Rig Veda
Ralph T.H. Griffith, Translator
Book 8

HYMN I. Indra.

GLORIFY naught besides, O friends; so shall no sorrow trouble you.
Praise only mighty Indra when the juice is shed, and say your lauds repeatedly:

Even him, eternal, like a bull who rushes down, men’s Conqueror, bounteous like a cow;
Him who is cause of both, of enmity and peace, to both sides most munificent.

Although these men in sundry ways invoke thee to obtain thine aid,
Be this our prayer, addressed, O Indra, unto thee, thine exaltation every day.

Those skilled in song, O Maghavan among these men o’ercome with might the foeman’s songs.
Come hither, bring us strength in many a varied form most near that it may succour us.

O Caster of the Stone, I would not sell thee for a mighty price,
Not for a thousand, Thunderer! nor ten thousand, nor a hundred, Lord of countless wealth!

O Indra, thou art more to me than sire or niggard brother is.
Thou and my mother, O Good Lord, appear alike, to give me wealth abundantly.

Where art thou? Whither art thou gone? For many a place attracts thy mind.
Haste, Warrior, Fort-destroyer, Lord of battle’s din, haste, holy songs have sounded forth.

Sing out the psalm to him who breaks down castles for his faithful friend,
Verses to bring the Thunderer to destroy the forts and sit on Kaṇva's sacred grass.

The Horses which are thine in tens, in hundreds, yea, in thousands thine,
Even those vigorous Steeds, fleet-footed in the course, with those come quickly near to us.

This day I call Sabardughā who animates the holy song,
Indra the richly-yielding Milch-cow who provides unfailing food in ample stream.

When Sūra wounded Etaśa, with Vāta’s rolling winged car.
Indra bore Kutsa Arjuneya off, and mocked Gandharva the unconquered One.

He without ligature, before making incision in the neck,
Closed up the wound again, most wealthy Maghavan, who maketh whole the injured part.

May we be never cast aside, and strangers, as it were, to thee.
We, Thunder-wielding Indra, count ourselves as trees rejected and unfit to burn.

O Vṛtra-slayer, we were thought slow and unready for the fray.
Yet once in thy great bounty may we have delight, O Hero, after praising thee.

If he will listen to my laud, then may out Soma-drops that flow
Rapidly through the strainer gladden Indra, drops due to the Tugryas’ Strengthener.