cruelly deceived me, after all my offerings at his shrine. For when I
sent to ask whether I should begin the war with Cyrus, he returned this
answer: I should destroy a mighty kingdom by crossing the river Halys.
I trusted the god, secured the friendship of Sparta according to his
commands, crossed the boundary stream, and, in so doing, did indeed
destroy a mighty kingdom; not however that of the Medes and Persians, but
my own poor Lydia, which, as a satrapy of Cambyses, finds its loss of
independence a hard and uncongenial yoke."

"You blame the god unjustly," answered Phryxus. It cannot be his fault
that you, in your human conceit, should have misinterpreted his oracle.
The answer did not say 'the kingdom of Persia,' but 'a kingdom' should
be destroyed through your desire for war. Why did you not enquire what
kingdom was meant? Was not your son's fate truly prophesied by the
oracle? and also that on the day of misfortune he would regain his
speech? And when, after the fall of Sardis, Cyrus granted your wish to
enquire at Delphi whether the Greek gods made a rule of requiting their
benefactors by ingratitude, Loxias answered that he had willed the best
for you, but was controlled by a mightier power than himself, by that
inexorable fate which had foretold to thy great ancestor, that his fifth
successor was doomed to destruction."

"In the first days of my adversity I needed those words far more than
now," interrupted Croesus. "There was a time when I cursed your god and
his oracles; but later, when with my riches my flatterers had left me,
and I became accustomed to pronounce judgment on my own actions, I saw
clearly that not Apollo, but my own vanity had been the cause of my ruin.
How could 'the kingdom to be destroyed' possibly mean mine, the mighty
realm of the powerful Croesus, the friend of the gods, the hitherto
unconquered leader? Had a friend hinted at this interpretation of the