Verse 12

⁸He trampled the army of the gods with his feet as it lay in distress with its eyes shut, drunk with the play of battle, shaking the earth with his lifted spear in his strength, as a maddened herd-leader tramples a thicket of reeds. ⁹Seeing him, the holder of the thunderbolt, past all bearing, flung his great mace at the enemy rushing upon him; and Vrtra caught it as it came, hard as it was to bear, in his left hand, at play. ¹⁰Then that enemy of Indra, greatly angered, of enormous valour, struck great Indra's carrier with that mace on the boss of its forehead, roaring in the fight; and everyone honoured that deed, king.

¹¹Airavata, touched by Vrtra's mace, reeled like a mountain hit by the thunderbolt, and drew off with his face split open, carrying Indra, running blood, seven bow-lengths, in great pain. ¹²The great-souled one did not use the mace a second time on one whose mount had gone down and whose mind was low. And Indra, his wounded mount freed of pain by the touch of his hand that runs with the deathless, stood his ground.