(Words written by Tennyson, 1883) Row us out to Desenzano, to your Sirmione row So they rowed, and there we landed O Venusta Sirmio There to me through all the groves of olive in the summer glow There beneath the Roman ruin where the purple flowers grow Came that Ave atque Vale of the poet's hopeless woe Tenderest of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago Frater Ave atque Vale as we wandered to and fro Gazing at the Lydian laughter of the garda Lake below Sweet Catullus' all-but-island, olive silvery Sirmio
