"Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.
"His breath kindleth live coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.
"In his neck abideth strength, and before him danceth terror.
"The flakes of his flesh are joined together, they are firm in themselves; yea, as hard as nether millstone.
"When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid; by reason of breakings they lose themselves.
"The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.
"He esteemeth iron as straw, and copper as rotten wood.
"The arrow cannot make him flee: sling-stones are turned with him into stubble.
"Clubs are counted as stubble; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.
"His under parts are like sharp points of potsherd; he speaketh sharp points upon the mire.