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.