The Lion and the Gnat by Jean de La Fontaine

'Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat! ' / Thus said the royal lion to the gnat. / The gnat declared immediate war. / 'Think you,' said he, 'your royal name / To me worth caring for? / Think you I tremble at your power or fame? / The ox is bigger far than you; / Yet him I drive, and all his crew. ' / This said, as one that did no fear owe, / Himself he blew the battle charge, / Himself both trumpeter and hero. / At first he play'd about at large, / Then on the lion's neck, at leisure, settled, / And there the royal beast full sorely nettled. / With foaming mouth, and flashing eye, / He roars. All creatures hide or fly, -- / Such mortal terror at / The work of one poor gnat! / With constant change of his attack, / The snout now stinging, now the back, / And now the chambers of the nose; / The pigmy fly no mercy shows. / The lion's rage was at its height; / His viewless foe now laugh'd outright, / When on his battle-ground he saw, / That every savage tooth and claw / Had got its proper beauty / By doing bloody duty; / Himself, the hapless lion, tore his hide, / And lash'd with sounding tail from side to side. / Ah! bootless blow, and bite, and curse! / He beat the harmless air, and worse; / For, though so fierce and stout, / By effort wearied out, / He fainted, fell, gave up the quarrel. / The gnat retires with verdant laurel. / Now rings his trumpet clang, / As at the charge it rang. / But while his triumph note he blows, / Straight on our valiant conqueror goes / A spider's ambuscade to meet, / And make its web his winding-sheet.

We often have the most to fear / From those we most despise; / Again, great risks a man may clear, / Who by the smallest dies.[1]