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1 Canst thou draw out leviathan with a fishhook?
Or press down his tongue with a cord?
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2 Canst thou put a rope into his nose?
Or pierce his jaw through with a hook?
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3 Will he make many supplications unto thee?
Or will he speak soft words unto thee?
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4 Will he make a covenant with thee.
That thou shouldest take him for a servant for ever?
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5 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird?
Or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?
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6 Will the bands of fishermen make traffic of him?
Will they part him among the merchants?
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7 Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons,
Or his head with fish-spears?
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8 Lay thy hand upon him;
Remember the battle, and do so no more.
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9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain:
Will not one be cast down even at the sight of him?
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10 None is so fierce that he dare stir him up;
Who then is he that can stand before me?
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11 Who hath first given unto me, that I should repay him?
Whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.
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12 I will not keep silence concerning his limbs,
Nor his mighty strength, nor his goodly frame.
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13 Who can strip off his outer garment?
Who shall come within his jaws?
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14 Who can open the doors of his face?
Round about his teeth is terror.
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15 His strong scales are his pride,
Shut up together as with a close seal.
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16 One is so near to another,
That no air can come between them.
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17 They are joined one to another;
They stick together, so that they cannot be sundered.
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18 His sneezings flash forth light,
And his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.
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19 Out of his mouth go burning torches,
And sparks of fire leap forth.
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20 Out of his nostrils a smoke goeth,
As of a boiling pot and burning rushes.
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21 His breath kindleth coals,
And a flame goeth forth from his mouth.
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22 In his neck abideth strength,
And terror danceth before him.
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23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together:
They are firm upon him; they cannot be moved.
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24 His heart is as firm as a stone;
Yes, firm as the nether millstone.
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25 When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid:
By reason of consternation they are beside themselves.
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26 If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail;
Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.
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27 He counteth iron as straw,
And copper as rotten wood.
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28 The arrow cannot make him flee:
Sling-stones are turned with him into stubble.
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29 Clubs are counted as stubble:
He laugheth at the rushing of the javelin.
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30 His underparts are like sharp potsherds:
He spreadeth as it were a threshing-sledge upon the mire.
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31 He maketh the deep to boil like a pot:
He maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.
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32 He maketh a path to shine after him;
One would think the deep to be hoary.
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33 Upon earth there is not his like,
That is made without fear.
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34 He beholdeth every thing that is high:
He is king over all the sons of pride. |
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