Listen, father Sabazios, the son of Cronos, renowned daimon, who stitched up in your thigh the Bacchic Dionysos, loud-roaring Eiraphiotes, so that he might come, completed, to most holy Tmolos, beside the lovely-cheeked Hipta. But, blessed ruler of Phrygia, come, greatest king of all, may you deliver kind aid to those performing mystic rites.