Context<hr>
       Queen Panthea of Susa was a prisoner of war of the great Cyrus.<hr>
Nevertheless, she was treated with great courtesy, which urged her to suggest her husband,<hr>
Abradates, to leave the Lydians' camp and join the forces of Cyrus. To show his<hr>
gratitude and courage, Abradates asked Cyrus for permission to fight on the front<hr>
lines. After receiving this favor, he accomplished prodigious feats, but sacrificed<hr>
so much that he only won victory at the cost of his life. His body, covered in wounds, was<hr>
brought back to the desperate Panthea. Cyrus visited her to comfort or rather, to share her<hr>
sorrow over this shared loss. It was then that the distressed princess spoke to him in roughly<hr>
these terms.<hr>
<hr>
                                                 Panthea to Cyrus<hr>
<hr>
      You can see, great Cyrus, what victory has cost you: Abradates was the sacrifice<hr>
that made the gods favor you. His blood watered the laurels that crown your head.<hr>
He died crowning you, but in reality, you and I are more the cause of his loss<hr>
than the bravery of the Lydians. Yes, Cyrus, it was your generosity, my gratitude, and his<hr>
that led him to this dismal state. You see him all covered with his own blood and that of<hr>
your enemies. The numerous wounds he suffered throughout his body are clear testimonies<hr>
of those he inflicted on those he fought. His bravery transformed the<hr>
despair of the Egyptians. This hand, almost separated from his arm, clearly shows he did not<hr>
let go of his weapons until he lost his life. You saw him, Cyrus, fight with such fervor that<hr>
it seemed as though the victory of this battle would place the crown of the entire world<hr>
on his head. He paid with his person, his blood, and his life, the debt I owe you. Thus,<hr>
great Cyrus, it is your generosity, my gratitude, and his that have caused his death and<hr>
my misfortune.<hr>
      However, I don’t blame you, I am too fair for that. On the contrary, I thank you<hr>
for the comfort you offer me. I see in you the commendable sentiment that makes you<hr>
shed tears on the day of your victory, and that makes you regret the loss<hr>
of a friend more than you rejoice over the conquest and defeat of all your enemies. But after<hr>
recognizing your merit, allow me to lament the cruel fate that dictated in order<hr>
to safeguard my honor, I had to send my dear Abradates himself into the<hr>
battle where he lost his life.<hr>
<hr>
                                                     66<hr>