The leader of war with eagerness {177a} conducts the battle,
Mallet of the land, {177b} he loved the mighty reapers; {177c}
Stout youth, the freshness of his form was stained with blood,
His accoutrements resounded, his chargers made a clang; {177d}
His cheeks {177e} are covered with armour,
And thus, image of death, he scatters desolation in the toil;
In the first onset his lances penetrate the targets, {177f}
And a track of surrounding light is made by the aim of the darting of his
spears.