"My lightnings pierced them; I licked up their strength with the lightning of my spears; I shook them to the earth with the thunder of my shouting.
"They broke - they scattered - they were gone as the mists of the morning.
"They are food for the crows and the foxes, and the place of battle is fat with their blood.
"Where are the mighty ones who rose up in the morning?
"Where are the proud ones who tossed their plumes and cried, `He is as one already dead'?
"They bow their heads, but not in sleep; they are stretched out, but not in sleep.
"They are forgotten; they have gone into the blackness, and shall not return; yea, others shall lead away their wives, and their children shall remember them no more.
"And I - I! the king - like an eagle have I found my eyrie.