Chorus
Singing.
Io! io! forward to the attack, throw yourselves upon the foe,
[345]
spill his blood; take to your wings and surround them on all sides. Woe to them! let us get to work with our beaks, let us devour them.
[350]
Nothing can save them from our wrath, neither the mountain forests, nor the clouds that float in the sky, nor the foaming deep.