Book 20: Hymn 18

HYMN XVIII

1This, even this, O Indra, we implore: as thy devoted friends,
The Kanvas praise thee with their hymns.
2Naught else, O Thunderer, have I praised in the skilled singer's
eulogy:
On thy laud only have I thought.
3The Gods seek him who presses out the Soma; they desire not
sleep:
Incessantly they punish sloth.
4Faithful to thee we loudly sing, heroic Indra, songs to thee.
Mark, gracious Lord, this act of ours.
5Give us not up to man's reproach, to foeman's hateful calumny:
In thee alone is all my strength.
6Thou art mine ample coat of mail, my champion, Vritra-slayes,
thou.
With thee for Friend I brave the foe.