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Rig Veda
Book 1, Hymn LVII. Indra
1 To him most liberal, lofty Lord of lofty wealth, verily powerful and strong, I bring my hymn,—
Whose checkless bounty, as of waters down a slope, is spread abroad for all that live, to give them strength.
2 Now all this world, for worship, shall come after thee—the offerer's libations like floods to the depth,
When the well-loved one seems to rest upon the hill, the thunderbolt of Indra, shatterer wrought of gold.
3 To him the terrible, most meet for lofty praise, like bright Dawn, now bring gifts with reverence in this rite,
Whose being, for renown, yea, Indra-power and light, have been created, like bay steeds, to move with speed.
4 Thine, Indra, praised by many, excellently rich! are we who trusting in thy help draw near to thee.
Lover of praise, none else but thou receives our laud: as earth loves all her creatures, love thou this our hymn.
5 Great is thy power, O Indra, we are thine. Fulfil, O Maghavan, the wish of this thy worshipper.
After thee lofty heaven hath measured out its strength: to thee and to thy power this earth hath bowed itself.
6 Thou, who hast thunder for thy weapon, with thy bolt hast shattered into pieces this broad massive cloud.
Thou hast sent down the obstructed floods that they may flow: thou hast, thine own for ever, all victorious might.
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