If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.
When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid: By reason of consternation they are beside themselves.
He counteth iron as straw, And brass as rotten wood.
And it shall have a hole for the head in the midst thereof: it shall have a binding of woven work round about the hole of it, as it were the hole of a coat of mail, that it be not rent.