Book IX, Epigram 84 (Ker)

When your inviolate loyalty, Norbanus, in defence of your master Caesar was withstanding impious frenzy, I, secure in the Pierian shade, the wooer, as men know, of your friendship, threw off these books. Me the Rhaetian quoted to you on Vindelicia's shores, and the North was not unknowing of my name. Oh, how often, not denying your old friend, you exclaimed: "My own is that poet, my own!" All work of mine, which during three years twice counted your reader gave you before, its author will give you now.