XXXI.

O thou of islands jewel and of half-islands, Fair Sirmio, whatever o'er the lakes' clear rim Or waste of ocean, Neptune holds, a two-fold pow'r; What joy have I to see thee, and to gaze what glee!

Scarce yet believing Thunia past, the fair champaign 5 Bithunian, yet in safety thee to greet once more. From cares to part us--where is any joy like this?

Then drops the soul her fardel, as the travel-tir'd World-weary wand'rer touches home, returns, sinks down In joy to slumber on the bed desir'd so long. 10 This meed, this only counts for e'en an age all toil.

O take a welcome, lovely Sirmio, thy lord's, And greet him happy; greet him all the lake Lydian; Laugh out whatever laughter at the hearth rings clear.