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Rig Veda, tr. by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1896], at sacred-texts.com


HYMN CII. Indra.

1. FOR thee may Indra boldly speed the car that works on either side.
Favour us, Much-invoked! in this most glorious fight against the raiders of our wealth.
2 Loose in the wind the woman's robe was streaming what time she won a car-load worth a thousand.
The charioteer in fight was Mudgalani: she Indra's dart, heaped up the prize of battle.
3 O Indra, cast thy bolt among assailants who would slaughter us:
The weapon both of Dāsa and of Ārya foe keep far away, O Maghavan.
4 The bull in joy had drunk a lake of water. His shattering horn encountered an opponent.
Swiftly, in vigorous strength, eager for glory, he stretched his forefeet, fain to win and triumph.
5 They came anear the bull; they made him thunder, made him pour rain down ere the fight was ended.
And Mudgala thereby won in the contest well-pastured kine in hundreds and in thousands.
6 In hope of victory that bull was harnessed: Kesi the driver urged him on with shouting.
As he ran swiftly with the car behind him his lifted heels pressed close on Mudgalani.
7 Deftly for him he stretched the car-pole forward, guided the bull thereto and firmly yoked him.
Indra vouchsafed the lord of cows his favour: with mighty steps the buffalo ran onward.
8 Touched by the goad the shaggy beast went nobly, bound to the pole by the yoke's thong of leather.
Performing deeds of might for many people, he, looking on the cows, gained strength and vigour.
9 Here look upon this mace, this bull's companion, now lying midway on the field of battle.
Therewith hath Mudgala in ordered contest won for cattle for himself, a hundred thousand.
10 Far is the evil: who hath here beheld it? Hither they bring the bull whom they are yoking..
To this they give not either food or water. Reaching beyond the pole it gives directions.
11 Like one forsaken, she hath found a husband, and teemed as if her breast were full and flowing.
With swiftly-racing chariot may we conquer, and rich and blessed be our gains in battle.
12 Thou, Indra, art the mark whereon the eyes of all life rest, when thou,
A Bull who drivest with thy bull, wilt win the race together with thy weakling friend.


Next: HYMN CIII. Indra.