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HYMN XLII. Indra.

1. COME to the juice that we have pressed, to Sorna, Indra, bleat with milk:
Come, favouring us, thy Bay-drawn car!
2 Come, Indra, to this gladdening drink, placed on the grass, pressed out with stones:
Wilt thou not drink thy fill thereof?
3 To Indra have my songs of praise gone forth, thus rapidly sent hence,
To turn him to the Soma-draught.
4 Hither with songs of praise we call Indra to drink the Soma juice:
Will he not come to us by lauds?
5 Indra, these Somas are expressed. Take them within thy belly, Lord
Of Hundred Powers, thou Prince of Wealth.
6 We know thee winner of the spoil, and resolute in battles, Sage!
Therefore thy blessing we implore.
7 Borne hither by thy Stallions, drink, Indra, this juice which we have pressed,
Mingled with barley and with milk.
8 Indra, for thee, in thine own place, I urge the Soma for thy draught:
Deep in thy heart let it remain,
9 We call on thee, the Ancient One, Indra, to drink the Soma juice,
We Kusikas who seek thine aid.

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