A sword that reaches him has no effect— nor with a spear, dart, or javelin.
May its morning stars be darkened; may it hope for light but have none— may it never see the eyelids of dawn.
His head and His hair were white like wool, white like snow, and His eyes like a flame of fire.
“When he rises up, the mighty are afraid; at his crashing they retreat.
He regards iron as straw, bronze as rotten wood.