he runs at him with a stiff neck, with the thick shields of his bucklers;

And a breath was moving over my face; the hair of my flesh became stiff:

It makes its tail stiff like a cedar, the sinews of its thighs are tightly wound.

Dost thou give to the horse might? Dost thou clothe his neck with a mane?

At ease I have been, and he breaketh me, And he hath laid hold on my neck, And he breaketh me in pieces, And he raiseth me to him for a mark.

In his neck lodge doth strength, And before him doth grief exult.

With great force he takes a grip of my clothing, pulling me by the neck of my coat.