HYMN XCVIII
That we may win us wealth and spoil we poets verily call on
thee.
In war men call on thee, Indra, the hero's Lord, in the steed's,
race-course call on thee.
As such, O Wonderful whose hand holds thunder, praised as
mighty, Caster of the Stone.
Pour on us boldly, Indra, kie and chariot-steeds, ever to be the
conqueror's strength.