The arrow does not make him flee, sling-stones become like stubble to him.
He laughs at the commotion of the city; he does not hear the shouts of the driver.
He reckons iron as straw, bronze as rotten wood.
Clubs are reckoned as straw, he laughs at the rattle of a lance.
“And they scoff at sovereigns, and princes are a laughing matter to them. They laugh at every stronghold, for they pile up earth and seize it.
יהוה of hosts shall shield them. And they shall devour and trample on sling stones. And they shall drink, roar as if with wine, and they shall be filled like basins, like the corners of the slaughter-place.