The quiver rattles against him, the glittering spear and lance.
He laughs at fear, and is not frightened; nor does he turn back from the sword.
He eats up the ground with fierceness and rage, and he does not stand still when the ram’s horn sounds.
The shields of his mighty men have become red, the men of battle are in scarlet. The chariots are like flaming torches in the day of his preparation, and the cypresses shall be shaken.