“ Where, like broad hips, to hold the juice the platters of the press are laid, O Indra, drink with eager thirst the droppings which the mortar sheds. 3. There where the woman marks and leans the pestle's constant rise and fall, O Indra, drink with eager thirst the droppings which the mortar sheds. 4. Where, as with reins to guide a horse, they bind the churning-staff with cords, O Indra, drink with eager thirst the droppings which the mortar sheds. 5. If of a truth in every house, O Mortar thou art set for work, Here give thou forth thy clearest sound, loud as the drum of conquerors. ”