And it came to pass that God was with the boy, and he grew, - and dwelt in the desert, and he became as he grew up, an archer,

By his spirit, hath he arched the heavens, His hand hath pierced the fleeing serpent.

A pride, are his arched sides, closed up, with a firm seal;

As an archer who woundeth every thing, so one who hireth a dullard, and a drunkard crossing the sea.

At the noise of horseman and archer, The whole city is in flight, They have entered dark thickets, Yea unto the crags, have they gone up, - Every city, is forsaken, There remaineth not in them a man!

Let not the archer tread his bow, Nor lift himself up in his coat of mail, - And do not spare her young men, Devote to destruction all her host.