The Phrygians, puzzled by their intoxicated guest, bound him in chains, and brought him before their dread sovereign. Ruling the great city of Pessinus was her King, Midas, son of Gordias, a poor farmer, and the goddess Cybele. For he slept in the pastures of deepest Anatolia, where in such days there was once a powerful kingdom known as Phrygia. The drunkard collapsed in a field, paralytic from drink, and as the Sun rose, mortal men soon spotted him. For, after the night's indulgences, the aged Silenus, feeble with age and wine, had lost his way. When the fell rites at last saw an end, the inebriated spirits retreated to the shadows. The dances rose, and the wine flowed, and Bacchus was appeased. Great was the party, and greater still the revelry. Long ago in most ancient times, the satyrs and nymphs, servants of the wine god Bacchus, came from far and wide in the country to honour their god of the grape. One such man was Midas, whose story more than any other issues the dire warning - Be careful what you wish for. One who is too readily slave to the passions will crumble. Often it is in such moments that decisions are made which can make or break a person. What we do in the heat of the moment can very often be the thing which defines a person.
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