10 So as to slaughter a slaughter it is sharpened. So as to have brightness it is polished, Desire hath rejoiced the sceptre of my son, It is despising every tree.
10
sharpened for the slaughter, polished to flash like lightning! “ ‘Shall we rejoice in the scepter of my royal son? The sword despises every such stick.
Young's Literal Translation is in the public domain.