Fear not, we are of the nature of the lion, and cannot descend

Queen Elizabeth I, daughter of Henry and sovereign of England, once uttered these immortal words: “Fear not, we are of the nature of the lion, and cannot descend to the destruction of mice and such small beasts.” In this utterance there resounds not only the pride of a monarch, but also the eternal wisdom of dignity and restraint. She likens herself — and by extension her nation — to the lion, that royal beast who does not waste its power upon trifles. In the midst of intrigue, when whispers of enemies and petty plots circled her throne, she declared that true strength does not squander itself in answering every insult or striking at every insect. Instead, majesty is proven by the ability to rise above, to reserve its might for worthy battles.

The origin of this quote lies in Elizabeth’s reign, a time when her crown was constantly threatened by rivals, both foreign and domestic. Spain raised its fleets, conspirators sought her life, tongues wagged against her virtue and her throne. Yet Elizabeth understood that a queen who stoops to lash at every critic becomes diminished, losing the majesty that commands reverence. By calling herself of the nature of the lion, she invoked not only her own courage but also the ancient symbolism of the king of beasts — regal, unafraid, and unmoved by the scurrying of vermin. To be lionlike is to remember that one’s destiny is to contend with greater foes, not to waste energy upon the petty.

History itself offers us a mirror to this wisdom. Consider Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, beset by gossipers, schemers, and petty enemies within the court. He, too, chose to act not with vengeance upon every slight, but with a quiet patience. His Meditations record the soul of a man who refused to lower himself to wrath against the small-minded. Instead, he reserved his strength for the true battles of empire: justice, governance, and war at the frontiers. Like Elizabeth, he embodied the lion’s spirit, disdaining to descend to the level of the mice who sought to gnaw at him.

And recall, too, the story of Nelson Mandela. Imprisoned for decades, he emerged not with venom for his captors, but with magnanimity and vision for a new South Africa. The small beasts of bitterness and revenge gnawed at the hearts of many, yet Mandela rose above them. He walked not as a man eager to destroy his enemies, but as a lion, whose roar called forth reconciliation, whose gaze was fixed on the grander struggle for justice and unity. This is the same truth Elizabeth knew: the greatest leaders are not distracted by trivial squabbles; they save their strength for victories that shape nations.

The lesson, then, is plain: in our own lives, we, too, must decide whether to live as lions or as hunters of mice. Petty arguments, insults, jealousies, and slanders swarm about us like vermin, tempting us to chase them. Yet to do so is to descend, to be pulled into the dust. The lion within us calls us to higher ground. We must learn to choose which battles are worthy of our spirit, and which are beneath us. True greatness is revealed not only in courage, but also in restraint.

What, then, shall we practice? When provoked by words, let us answer with silence, for silence is the roar of wisdom. When tempted to strike at the petty, let us remember our strength is better saved for noble deeds. When mocked by the insignificant, let us recall that the lion does not trouble itself with mice. Instead, let us devote our power to pursuits of honor — to the protection of the weak, the defense of truth, the pursuit of justice. Thus shall our lives shine with the same dignity that crowned Elizabeth’s reign.

Hear this, O seekers of wisdom: the world is full of small beasts, and they will gnaw at your peace if you let them. But you are not made for such battles. You are of the nature of the lion. Lift your head above the petty and the spiteful. Reserve your strength for the noble task, for the high road, for the great victories that define a life well lived. Only then shall your days carry the fragrance of true majesty, and your memory endure like that of Elizabeth, whose roar silenced kingdoms.