and shouted, overweening deity, where is the gratitude of the gods? Where is lord Apollo? The palace of Alyattes falls into ruins countless city the Pactolus whirling with [gold runs red with blood], women are brutally led out of the well-built halls. What was hated is loved. To die is sweetest. So he spoke, and he bid the slave with the delicate step to kindle the wooden structure. His daughters cried out, and threw their arms out towards their mother;