They who stand round him as he moves harness the bright, the ruddy Steed
The lights are shining in the sky.
On both sides to the car they yoke the two bay coursers dear to him,
Bold, tawny, bearers of the Chief.
Thou, making light where no light was, and form, O men: where form was not,
Wast born together with the Dawns.
Thereafter they, as is their wont, threw off the state of babes unborn,
Assuming sacrificial names.
Thou, Indra, with the Tempest-Gods, the breakers down of what is firm,
Foundest the kine even in the cave.
Worshipping even as they list, singers laud him who findeth wealth,
The far-renowned, the mighty One.
Mayest thou verily be seen coming by fearless Indra's side:
Both joyous, equal in your sheen.
With Indra's well beloved hosts, the blameless, hastening to heaven,
The sacrificer cries aloud.
Come from this place, O Wanderer, or downward from the light of heaven:
Our songs of praise all yearn for this.
Indra we seek to give us help, from here, from heaven above the earth,
Or from the spacious firmament.
