The sacrificial hymn of the hotrā became an offering to Indra; the hero went upon the path, the middle way. Around he sits with treasures, companions and family, not moving the lord of the assembly.

Go, Indra, quickly to the oblation which is cooked, the sun is advanced nearly to the middle of hisroad; your friends sit around you with their offerings as the protectors of a family (attend upon) the migrating lordof the mansion.

Oblation is prepared: come to us, Indra; the Sun hath travelled over half his journey. Friends with their stores are sitting round thee waiting like lords of clans for the tribe's wandering chieftain.