Now, high on lonely Sipylus,
She sits and weeps in stony grief;
Though to insensate marble turned,
Her tears flow fresh forevermore.
And now both men and women join380
In praise to the twin divinities.
But thee, above all gods, we praise;
Our father and our ruler thou,
Lord of the hurtling thunderbolt,
At whose dread nod the farthest poles