THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES

There was once a king named Dionysius. He was very cruel. People called him a tyrant. He was rich. He lived in a big palace. There were many beautiful and costly things. Many servants served him.

One day a friend named Damocles said,'How happy you must be! You have everything a man could wish.' The tyrant asked,'Would you like to change places with me?''No, not that,' said Damocles.'But if I could have your riches and your pleasures for one day, I think I would be happy.''Very well,' said the tyrant.'You shall have them.'

The next day Damocles was led into the palace. The servants treated him as their master. He sat at a table in the banquet hall. Rich foods were placed before him. Nothing was missing that could give him pleasure. There were fine wines, flowers, perfumes, and music. He rested on soft cushions. He thought he was the happiest man.

Then he looked at the ceiling. There was a sword hanging above his head, its point almost touching him. It was hung by a single horse-hair. What if the hair broke? There was danger every moment.

Damocles smiled no more. His face grew pale. His hands trembled. He wanted no more food. He would not drink more wine. He did not enjoy the music. He wanted to leave the palace.

The tyrant asked,'What is the matter?' Damocles cried,'That sword! that sword!' He was very afraid.

Dionysius said,'Yes, there is a sword above your head. It may fall at any moment. But I have a sword above my head all the time. I am always afraid I could lose my life.'

'TLet me go,' said Damocles.'I see I was wrong. Rich and powerful people are not as happy as they seem.' He asked to go back to his old home in the poor cottage by the mountains.

And so, as long as he lived, he never wanted to be rich, or to swap places with the king, even for a moment.