Book 20: Hymn 52

HYMN LII 1We compass thee like waters, we whose grass is trimmed and Soma pressed. Here where the filter pours its stream thy worshipper round thee, O Vritra-slayer, sit. 2Men, Vasu! by the Soma, with lauds call thee to the foremost place. When comest thou athirst unto the juice as home, O Indra, like a bellowing bull?