Dost thou draw leviathan with an angle,{HR}Or, with a cord thou lettest down, his tongue?
Dost thou put a rush in his nose,{HR}Or bore his jaw with a thorn?
Will he multiply supplications to thee?{HR}Will he speak to thee tender things?
Will he make a covenant with thee?{HR}Wilt thou take him [for] ever as a slave?
Wilt thou sport with him as a bird, and bind him for thy girls?
Let partners bargain for him — divide him among traders!
Dost thou fill his skin with pikes, or his head with fish-spears?
Put thine hand on him — remember the battle —{HR}Thou wilt not do it again:
Behold, his hope proveth false.{HR}Even at the sight of him is not [one] cast down?
None is so fierce as to provoke him.{HR}And who [is] he that maketh a stand before me?
Who first gave to me, and I must repay?{HR}Under the whole heaven it [is] mine.
I will not be silent about his parts,{HR}And the matter of his powers, and the beauty of his structure.
Who hath uncovered the face of his garment?{HR}Into his double jaws who entereth in?
The doors of his face, who hath opened?{HR}Round about his teeth [is] terror;
A pride [are] the concave shields, shut up [as] a close seal;
One to another they join, and air entereth not between them;
One to another they adhere, they hold together, and separate not.
His sneezing flasheth forth light,{HR}And his eyes [are] as eyelids of the dawn.
Out of his mouth proceed torches, sparks of fire escape.
Out of his nostrils issue the smoke,{HR}As out of a seething pot and caldron.
His breath kindleth coals,{HR}And a flame cometh out from his mouth.
In his neck strength lodgeth, and before him danceth terror.
The flakes of his flesh are fitted close together;{HR}They are fixed fast on him, immovable.
His heart [is] firm as a stone, as a nether [millstone].
At his rising up the mighty tremble;{HR}From terror they miss their mark.
The sword of his overtaker doth not hold, spear, mace, nor lance;
He reckoneth iron as straw, copper as rotten wood;
The bolt (child) of the bow causeth him not to flee;{HR}Sling-stones are changed into stubble for him;
Clubs are reckoned as stubble;{HR}He laugheth at the shaking of a javelin.
His under parts [are] the sharpest of shards;{HR}He spreadeth a threshing-roller on the mire.
He maketh the deep boil as a pot,{HR}He maketh the sea like a pot of ointment;
After him he maketh the path to shine —{HR}One would think the deep hoary.
There is not on the dust dominion over him,{HR}Who is made to be without dread;
He looketh on all that is high,{HR}He [is] king over all the sons of pride.