21 His breath kindleth coals, And a flame goeth forth from his mouth.
22 In his neck abideth strength, And terror danceth before him.
23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together: They are firm upon him; they cannot be moved.
24 His heart is as firm as a stone; Yea, firm as the nether millstone.
25 When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid: By reason of consternation they are beside themselves.
26 If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.
27 He counteth iron as straw, `And' brass as rotten wood.
28 The arrow cannot make him flee: Sling-stones are turned with him into stubble.
29 Clubs are counted as stubble: He laugheth at the rushing of the javelin.
30 His underparts are `like' sharp potsherds: He spreadeth `as it were' a threshing-wain upon the mire.