Of all the many loved by me,
Of all my friends most dear,
Verannius is thy travel o'er,
And art thou home return'd once more
To light thy brother's smile of glee,
Thy mother's age to cheer? Thou 'rt come. Oh blissful, blessed news!
Thou 'rt come, and I again
Shall see and hear thee, in the way
I loved in former time, Portray
The splendid towns, the mountain views,
The tribes, and deeds of Spain. I warm shall press thee to my breast,
Where fervent welcomes burn.
What mortal, though he dare to think
Of pleasure he may largely drink,
Is half so joyful, or so blest,
As I in his return?