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of the lamb, the lion, the swine, the monkey; here juggles and phantoms of the imagination are meant, which in the view and fancy of the drunken man hunt one another like monkey capers. Moreover, the state of the drunken man is one that is separated from the reality of a life of sobriety and the safety of a life of moderation, 34a: thou act like one who lies in the heart of the sea. Thus to lie in the heart, i.e., the midst, of the sea as a ship goes therein, Pro 30:19, is impossible; there one must swim but swimming is not lying, and to thing on a situation like that of Jonah; Jon 1:5, one must think also of the ship; but שׁכב does not necessarily mean “to sleep,” and, besides, the sleep of a passenger in the cabin on the high sea is of itself no dangerous matter. Rightly Hitzig: on the depth of the sea (cf. Jon 2:4) - the drunken man, or the man overcome by wine (Isa 28:7), is like one who has sunk down into the midst of the sea; and thus drowned, or in danger of being drowned, he is in a condition of intellectual confusion, which finally passes over into perfect unconsciousness, cut off from the true life which passes over him like one dead, and in this condition he has made a bed for himself, as שׁכב denotes. With בלב, בּראשׁ stands in complete contrast: he is like one who lies on the top of the mast. חבּל, after the forms דּבּר, שׁלּם, is the sail-yard fastened by ropes, חבלים ,sepo (Isa 33:23). To lay oneself down on the sail-yard happens thus to no one, and it is no place for such a purpose; but as little as one can quarter him who is on the ridge of the roof, in the ‘Alîja, because no one is able to lie down there, so little can he in the bower [Mastkorb] him who is here spoken of (Böttcher). The poet says, but only by way of comparison, how critical the situation of the drunkard is; he compares him to one who lies on the highest sail-yard, and is exposed to the danger of being every moment thrown into the sea; for the rocking of the ship is the greater in proportion to the height of the sail-yard. The drunkard is, indeed, thus often exposed to the peril of his life; for an accident of itself not great, or a stroke, may suddenly put an end to his life.
The poet represents the drunken man as now speaking to himself. He has been well cudgelled; but because insensible, he has not felt it, and he places himself now where he will