Job

41 Canst thou draw out the Crocodile with a fish-hook? Or with a cord canst thou fasten down his tongue?

2 Wilt thou put a rush-cord on his nose? Or with a thorn wilt thou pierce his jaw?

3 Will he multiply unto thee supplications, Or will he speak unto thee softly?

4 Will he solemnise a covenant with thee? Wilt thou take him for a life-long servant?

5 Wilt thou sport with him as with a little bird? Or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

6 Shall the companions bargain over him? Or will they part him among the traders?

7 Wilt thou fill with darts his skin? Or with fish-spears his head?

8 Lay thou upon him thy hand, Remember the battle—no more!

9 Lo! any hope of him hath been found deceptive, Even at the sight of him shall not one be overwhelmed?

10 None so bold that he will rouse him! Who then is he that before me can stand?

11 Who hath forestalled me that I may repay him? Under all the heavens mine it is!

12 I will not pass by in silence his parts, Or the matter of strength or the grace of his armour.

13 Who hath removed his outer garment, Through his double row of teeth who would enter?

14 The doors of his face who hath opened? The circles of his teeth are a terror!

15 A pride are his arched sides, Closed up with a firm seal;

16 One to another they join, And air cannot enter between them;

17 Each to its fellow they cleave, They grasp each other and cannot be parted;

18 His sneezings flash forth light, And his eyes are like the eyelashes of the dawn;

19 Out of his mouth torches dart forth, Sparks of fire escape;

20 Out of his nostrils proceedeth smoke, Like a blown pot and rushes;

21 His breath setteth coals ablaze, And a flame out of his mouth proceedeth;

22 In his neck lodgeth strength, And before him danceth dismay;

23 The dewlaps of his flesh cleave together, Hardened upon him they cannot be moved;

24 His heart is hardened like a stone, Yea hardened like the nether millstone;

25 At his rising up mighty men are afraid, By reason of terror they are beside themselves:

26 As for him that assaileth him the sword availeth not, Spear, dart, or coat of mail:

27 He counteth iron as broken straw, And bronze as rotten wood:

28 The arrow will not make him flee, Into chaff are sling-stones changed by him:

29 As a straw is a club accounted, And he laugheth at the whir of the javelin;

30 His underparts are points of potsherd, A pointed threshing roller spreadeth out upon the slime;

31 He causeth to boil as a cauldron the raging deep, The sea he maketh like a brewing vessel:

32 After him he lighteth up a path, One might think the resounding deep to be hoary!

33 There is not—upon the dust—his like, That hath been made to be without fear;

34 Every thing lofty he beholdeth, He is king over all ravenous beasts.