Job, Chapter 40

Of Clouds thus spake: O Iob, thy armes put on:
If thou hast will or courage left, prepare
T'encounter me in this Gigantick warre.
Wilt thou my Judgements disanull? defame
My equall Rule, to cleare thy selfe of blame?
Is thy weake Arme as strong as Gods? can'st thou
In thunder speake? the Sea with Tempests plow?
Come deck thy selfe with Beauties Excellence;
With Majestie; and Sun-like Rayes dispense:
The fury of thy wrath like lightning fling
On bold offenders: Pride to ruine bring.
Those with the surfeits of excesse destroy,
Who in their uncontrouled vices joy:
Hide them together in the Caves of Night;
There bind them, never to behold the Light:
Then will I say that thou thy selfe can'st save
From wasting Age, Destruction, and the Grave.
With thee, I made the mighty Elephant;
Who Oxe-like feeds on every herbe and plant.
His mighty strength lyes in his able Loynes:
And where the flexure of his Navell joynes.
His stretcht-out tayle presents a Mountaine Pine;
The Sinewes of his Stones like Cords combine.
His Bones the hammer'd Steele in strength surpasse:
His sides are fortifi'd with Ribs of Brasse.
Of Gods great workes the chiefe: lo, he who made
This knowing Beast, hath arm'd him with a blade.
He feed's on lofty Hils, nor lives by prey:
About their gentle Prince his Subjects play.
His limbs he coucheth in the cooler shades:
Oft, when Heavens burning Eye the fields invades,
To Marishes resorts; obscur'd with Reedes,
And hoary Willowes, which the moysture feeds.
The chiding Currents at his entry rise;
Who quivering Jordan swallowes with his Eyes.
Can the bold Hunter take him in a Toyle?
Or by the Trunck produce him as his Spoyle?