“ When, Indra, thou dost yoke thy Steeds, there is no better charioteer: None hath surpassed thee in thy might, none with good steeds o'ertaken thee. 7. He who alone bestoweth on mortal man who offereth gifts, The ruler of resistless power, is Indra, sure. 8. When will he trample, like a weed, the man who hath no gift for him? When, verily, will Indra hear our songs of praise? 9. He who with Soma juice prepared amid the many honours thee,-- Verily Indra gains thereby tremendous might. ”