CHAPTER 41
1Look, all hope of him is dashed,
at his mere sight one is cast down.
2No fierce one could arouse him,
and who before Me could stand up?
3Who could go before Me in this I’d reward,
under all the heavens he would be mine.
4I would not keep silent about him,
about his heroic acts and surpassing grace.
5Who can uncover his outer garb,
come into his double mail?
6Who can pry open the doors of his face?
All around his teeth is terror.
7His back is rows of shields,
closed with the tightest seal.
8Each touches against the next,
no breath can come between them.
9Each sticks fast to the next,
locked together, they will not part.
10His sneezes shoot out light,
and his eyes are like the eyelids of dawn.
11Firebrands leap from his mouth,
sparks of fire fly into the air.
12From his nostrils smoke comes out,
like a boiling vat on brushwood.
13His breath kindles coals,
and flame comes out of his mouth.
14Strength abides in his neck,
15The folds of his flesh cling together;
hard-cast, he will not totter.
16His heart is cast hard as stone,
cast hard as a nether millstone.
17When he rears up, the gods are frightened,
when he crashes down, they cringe.
18Who overtakes him with sword, it will not avail,
nor spear nor dart nor lance.
19Iron he deems as straw,
and bronze as rotten wood.
20No arrow can make him flee,
slingstones for him turn to straw.
21Missiles are deemed as straw,
and he mocks the javelin’s clatter.
22Beneath him, jagged shards,
he draws a harrow over the mud.
23He makes the deep boil like a pot,
turns sea to an ointment pan.
24Behind him glistens a wake,
he makes the deep seem hoary.
25He has no match on earth,
made as he is without fear.
26All that is lofty he can see.