Croesus and Cyrus (from Ovid's Returns)

No one believed Herodotus when he told the tale
of the man condemned to die by drenching rage
of fire, the man who begged the gods for rain,
and got it. Lashed to the leaning pyre,
choked by the twisting smoke blazing up
from white flames blinding as the sun,
he swore Apollo lifetime fealty and
the light blue sky burst open, cloudless,
yet making rivers of roads and mountains
of steaming cataracts. In that bright waterfall
the smoke paled, and with his wriggling toes singed,
Croesus impressed Cyrus, and walked free.