Bel, the prince, the king of kings.
"Hotly his flaming hair, streaming with brightness, and the locks of his beard
Curl'd into clouds of heat, sweeping the heavens, spread all over the sky:
Who shall abide his face, fearful and deadly, when he devours the land,
Angry with man and beast, horribly raging, hungry for sacrifice?
Bel, the prince, the king of kings.
"Striding his three great strides, out of the morning through the noon to the night,
Cometh he down at last, ready for feasting, ready for sacrifice:
Then doth he tread the wine, purple and golden, foaming deep in the west;
Shinar is spread for him, spread as a table, Assur shall be his seat: