Upon it rattle the quiver, the flashing spear, and the javelin.
It laughs at fear and is not dismayed; it does not turn back from the sword.
With fierceness and rage it swallows the ground; it cannot stand still at the sound of the trumpet.
The shields of his warriors are red; his soldiers are clothed in crimson. The metal on the chariots flashes on the day when he musters them; the chargers prance.