How rich the gods would be if they were paid what people promised them in times of danger! But when the danger’s passed, impiously we think of only earthly debts.
A man, a traveller by sea, was buffeted by storm. He prayed to Jupiter to save his life, and vowed a hundred oxen in exchange. (He hadn’t one. He might as well have offered elephants.)
On reaching shore, he burned some bones, and heavenward he waved the wafting smoke.
“O Jupiter, receive my vow, acquitted now! Inhale the sweet and savory perfume of ox. Enjoy!”
The god did not betray displeasure; but, when several days had passed, he sent a dream of buried treasure to the promiser.
The man to fortune ran as though from fire. Along the way, he was accosted by a band of thieves.
He said, “I haven’t got a stiver or a doit. But follow my directions and you’ll find a hundred coins of gold, I promise you.”
They disbelieved his tale. “My boy, you’ll need that pelf yourself—in hell.”
Those who don’t honor vows are dolts. Instead of bills, the gods send lightning bolts.