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The shields of his warriors are red;
        his soldiers are dressed in crimson.
The ironwork of the chariots flashes like fire
        on the day he has prepared;
            the horses quiver.
The chariots race wildly through the streets;
        they rush back and forth through the squares.
        They look like flaming torches;
                they dart like bolts of lightning.
He musters his officers;
            they stumble as they press forward.
        They hurry to the city wall,
            and the portable shield is set up.

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