The arrow cannot make him flee; for him slingstones are turned to stubble.
Clubs are counted as stubble; he laughs at the rattle of javelins.
His underparts are like sharp potsherds; he spreads himself like a threshing sledge on the mire.
He makes the deep boil like a pot; he makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
Behind him he leaves a shining wake; one would think the deep to be hoary.
Upon earth there is not his like, a creature without fear.
He beholds everything that is high; he is king over all the sons of pride."
Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright 1952 [2nd edition, 1971] by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved. (Revised Standard Version - Holy Bible)