They grasp bow and javelin.
They are cruel and show no mercy.
Their voice roars like the sea,
and they ride on horses,
lined up like men in battle formation
against you, Daughter Zion.

Gird the horses, and go up, ye horsemen, And station yourselves with helmets, Polish the javelins, put on the coats of mail.

Bow and javelin, shall they grasp, Cruel, are they and will not have compassion, Their voice, like the sea, will roar, And, on horses, will they ride, - Set in array, as one man for battle, Against thee, O daughter of Babylon!