Can you draw out leviathan with a hook? or his tongue with a cord which you let down?

Who has given to me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

By his sneezings a light flashes, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

Can you put a rope in his nose? or pierce his jaw through with a hook?

His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

His breath kindles coals, and a flame goes out of his mouth.

He beholds every high thing: he is a king over all the children of pride.

His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the lower millstone.

When he raises up himself, the mighty are afraid: because of his crashings they are beside themselves.

Can you fill his skin with harpoons? or his head with fish spears?

The sword of him that reaches him cannot avail: neither the spear, the dart, nor the javelin.

None is so fierce that would dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

Out of his nostrils goes smoke, as out of a boiling pot or caldron.

The folds of his flesh are joined together: they are firm on him; they cannot be moved.

I will not conceal his limbs, nor his power, nor his graceful proportion.

Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

Shall your companions make a banquet of him? shall they apportion him among the merchants?

One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

Behold, the hope of subduing him is in vain: shall one not be cast down even at the sight of him?

Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible all around.

Will he make a covenant with you? will you take him for a servant forever?

In his neck remains strength, and sorrow is turned into dancing before him.

They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be parted.

Will you play with him as with a bird? or will you leash him for your maidens?

Who can remove the face of his garment? or who can approach him with a double bridle?

Will he make many supplications unto you? will he speak soft words unto you?

Lay your hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

Upon earth there is not his like, which is made without fear.

The arrow cannot make him flee: clingstones with him are turned into stubble.

His undersides are like sharp stones: he spreads sharp pointed marks upon the mire.

He makes the deep boil like a pot: he makes the sea like a pot of ointment.

Darts are counted as straw: he laughs at the threat of a javelin.

He leaves a path shining after him; one would think the deep to have white hair.

He regards iron as straw, and bronze as rotten wood.