The quiver rattles against him, The glittering spear and javelin.
He mocks at fear, and is not frightened; Nor does he turn back from the sword.
He devours the distance with fierceness and rage; Nor does he come to a halt because the trumpet has sounded.
The shields of his mighty men are made red, The valiant men are in scarlet. The chariots come with flaming torches In the day of his preparation, And the spears are brandished.