Once powerful and mighty king
Croesus stands on the hill in chains
Brought here to watch his city, Sardis, being raped.
His hair once filled with gold and gems
Is now in mud and his own blood,
His gorgeous robe is torn apart -
He is appalled and thinks of his bad fate.
Behind him, on the throne, sits Cyrus
His eyes show arrogance though yet unknown to man,
His triumph is in every sword and bag
That marches through these streets.
"I am your prisoner, take comfort in my grief,
But these are now your lands
Your army ravages and preys upon.
I plea you heed the words of Solon"