Chorus: Not an untrained band, to tears unknown,
Thou callest to grief, for our tears have rained
In streams unending through the years,
Since the time when the Phrygian guest arrived
At the friendly court of Tyndarus,70
Sailing the sea in his vessel framed
From the sacred pines of Cybele.
Ten winters have whitened Ida's slopes,
So often stripped for our funeral pyres;
Ten years have ripened the waving grain