“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”