He mocks at fear and is not frightened, nor does he turn back from the sword.
She is hardened against her young ones, as though they were not hers; her labor is in vain, without concern,
When she lifts up herself on high, she scorns the horse and his rider.
He paws in the valley and rejoices in his strength; he goes on to meet the armed men.
The quiver rattles against him, the glittering spear and the shield.
On earth there is nothing like him, a creature made without fear.
The noise of the whip and the noise of the rattling of the wheels, galloping horses, and rushing chariots!