Yet, when the time is right, she raises her wings on high; she ridicules the horse and his rider. Will you supply strength to the horse, or envelope his throat with neighing? Will you alarm him as the locusts do? His panic is revealed by the display of his nostrils. He digs at the earth with his hoof; he jumps around boldly; he advances to meet armed men. He despises fear; he does not turn away from the sword. Above him, the quiver rattles, the spear and the shield shake. Seething and raging, he drinks up the earth; neither does he pause when the blast of the trumpet sounds. When he hears the bugle, he says, "Ha!" He smells the battle from a distance, the exhortation of the officers, and the battle cry of the soldiers.
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