Behold, the hope of him is in vain; Shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?
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None is so fierce that dare stir him up; Who then is able to stand before Me?
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Who hath given Me anything beforehand, that I should repay him? Whatsoever is under the whole heaven is Mine.
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Would I keep silence concerning his boastings, or his proud talk, or his fair array of words?
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Who can uncover the face of his garment? Who shall come within his double bridle?
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Who can open the doors of his face? Round about his teeth is terror.
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His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.
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One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.
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They are joined one to another; They stick together, that they cannot be sundered.
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His sneezings flash forth light, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.
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Out of his mouth go burning torches, and sparks of fire leap forth.
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Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot and burning rushes.
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His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.
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In his neck abideth strength, and dismay danceth before him.
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The flakes of his flesh are joined together; they are firm upon him; they cannot be moved.
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His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, firm as the nether millstone.
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When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid; by reason of despair they are beside themselves.
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If one lay at him with the sword, it will not hold; nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.
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He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.
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The arrow cannot make him flee; slingstones are turned with him into stubble.
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Clubs are accounted as stubble; He laugheth at the rattling of the javelin.
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Sharpest potsherds are under him; He spreadeth a threshing-sledge upon the mire.
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He maketh the deep to boil like a pot; He maketh the sea like a seething mixture.
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He maketh a path to shine after him; One would think the deep to be hoary.
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Upon earth there is not his like who is made to be fearless.
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He looketh at all high things; He is king over all the proud beasts.
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