The LYON and the GNAT. Anne Finch (née Kingsmill), countess of Winchilsea Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T94539 pp. 274-5 K076314.000 Winchilsea, Anne Kingsmill Finch, Countess of, 1661-1720. Miscellany poems, on several occasions: Written by the Right Honble Anne, Countess of Winchilsea. London printed for J. B. and sold by Benj. Tooke, William Taylor, and James Round 1713 pp. 254-257. [8],390p. ; 8⁰.

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The LYON and the GNAT . TO the still Covert of a Wood , About the prime of Day , A Lyon , satiated with Food , With stately Pace , and sullen Mood , Now took his lazy way . To Rest he there himself compos'd , And in his Mind revolv'd , How Great a Person it enclos'd , How free from Danger he repos'd , Though now in Ease dissolv'd ! Who Guard , nor Centinel did need , Despising as a Jest All whom the Forest else did feed , As Creatures of an abject Breed , Who durst not him molest . But in the Air a Sound he heard , That gave him some dislike ; At which he shook his grisly Beard , Enough to make the Woods affeard , And stretch'd his Paw to strike . When on his lifted Nose there fell A Creature , slight of Wing , Who neither fear'd his Grin , nor Yell , Nor Strength , that in his Jaws did dwell , But gores him with her Sting . Transported with th' Affront and Pain , He terribly exclaims , Protesting , if it comes again , Its guilty Blood the Grass shall stain , And to surprize it aims . The scoffing Gnat now laugh'd aloud , And bids him upwards view The Jupiter within the Cloud , That humbl'd him , who was so proud , And this sharp Thunder threw . That Taunt no Lyon's Heart cou'd bear ; And now much more he raves , Whilst this new Perseus in the Air Do's War and Strife again declare , And all his Terrour braves . Upon his haughty Neck she rides , Then on his lashing Tail ; ( Which need not now provoke his Sides ) Where she her slender Weapon guides , And makes all Patience fail . A Truce at length he must propose , The Terms to be her Own ; Who likewise Rest and Quiet chose , Contented now her Life to close , When she'd such Triumph known . You mighty Men , who meaner ones despise , Learn from this Fable to become more Wise ; You see the Lyon may be vext with Flies .