Book VIII, Epigram 21 (Ker)

Phosphor, bring us back day; why puttest thou off our joys? Now Caesar comes, Phosphor, bring us back day, Rome begs thee. Doth the sluggish wain of slow-twisting Bootes bear thee, that thou comest with too slow an axle? Thou mightest have withdrawn Cyllarus from Leda's constellation; freely will Castor now yield his steed to thee. Why stayest thou eager Titan .'' Already Xanthus and Aethon look for the reins; Memnon's kindly Mother wakes. Yet the slow stars yield not to glowing light, and the moon longs to see Ausonia's Chief. Now, Caesar, come thou, even by night; let the stars stand still; the people, when thou comest, shall not want for day.