Rig Veda
sam bhānunā yatate sūryasyājuhvāno ghṛtapṛṣṭhaḥ svañcāḥ tasmā amṛdhrā uṣaso vy ucchān ya indrāya sunavāmety āha
Bedewed with holy oil and meetly worshipped, the Swift One vies with Surya's beam in splendour. For him may mornings dawn without cessation who saith, Let us press Soma out for Indra.
samiddhāgnir vanavat stīrṇabarhir yuktagrāvā sutasomo jarāte grāvāṇo yasyeṣiraṃ vadanty ayad adhvaryur haviṣāva sindhum
With kindled fire and strewn grass let him worship, and, Soma-presser, sing with stones adjusted: And let the priest whose press-stones ring forth loudly, go down with his oblation to the river.
vadhūr iyam patim icchanty eti ya īṃ vahāte mahiṣīm iṣirām āsya śravasyād ratha ā ca ghoṣāt purū sahasrā pari vartayāte
This wife is coming near who loves her husband who carries to his home a vigorous consort. Here may his car seek fame, here loudly thunder, and his wheel make a thousand revolutions.
na sa rājā vyathate yasminn indras tīvraṃ somam pibati gosakhāyam ā satvanair ajati hanti vṛtraṃ kṣeti kṣitīḥ subhago nāma puṣyan
No troubles vex that King in whose home Indra drinks the sharp Soma juice with milk commingled. With heroes he drives near, he slays the foeman: Blest, cherishing that name, he guards his people.
This verse is not included in this edition.
May he support in peace and win in battle: he masters both the hosts that meet together. Dear shall he be to Surya, dear to Agni, who with pressed Soma offers gifts to India.