18 When time shall be, she setteth up her wings on high: she scorneth the horse and his rider.
19 Wilt thou give strength to the horse, or clothe his neck with neighing?
20 Wilt thou lift him up like the locusts? the glory of his nostrils is terror.
21 He breaketh up the earth with his hoof, he pranceth boldly, he goeth forward to meet armed men.
22 He despiseth fear, he turneth not his back to the sword,
23 Above him shall the quiver rattle, the spear and shield shall glitter.
24 Chasing and raging he swalloweth the ground, neither doth he make account when the noise of the trumpet soundeth.