Belshazzar of Babylon sat at a feast. Very much after the fashion of
modern kings they were good at feasting in those olden days. The
farthest limits of the kingdom had been searched for every delight and
delicacy. Honeyed wines, flamingo's tongues, game from the hills, fruits
from vine and tree, spices from grove and forest, vegetables from field
and garden, fish from stream and sea; every resource of Mother Earth
that could contribute to appetite or sensual pleasure was brought to the
king's table. Singers, minstrels, dancers, magicians, entertainers of
every description were summoned to the palace that they might contribute
to the vanity of the monarch, and impress the onlooking nations about
him.

He desired to be known and feared as the greatest monarch on earth;
ruling as he did over the world's greatest city. His triumphs had been
many. He had come to believe that his power proceeded directly from the
god Bel, and that he was the chosen and anointed of that deity.

This was the period of his prime; of Babylon's greatest glory; his
kingdom seemed so firmly established he had no thought it could be
shaken. But misleading are the dreams of kings; his kingdom was suddenly
menaced from without, by Cyrus of Persia, another great monarch. There
were also dangers from within, but courtiers and flatterers kept this
knowledge from him. Priests of rival gods had set themselves up within
the empire; spies from without and conspirators within were secretly
undermining the power of the intrenched despot.

Such was Belshazzar in his pride; such his kingdom and empire. And, so
it was, this was to be an orgy that would set a record for all time to
come.