Book X, Epigram 12 (Ker)

You are going to the peoples on the Aemilian Way, and to Apollo's Vercellae, and the fields by the Po where Phaethon died. May I perish, but I let you go willingly, Domitius, although without you no day is pleasant to me; but I can pay the price of regret that, even for a single summer, you may ease your neck galled by the city's yoke. Go, I pray, and drink into your greedy pores the fullness of the sunshine— oh, how comely you will be while you are abroad! And you will return not to be recognized by your white-faced friends, and a pallid crowd will envy your cheeks. But Rome will quickly efface the tan your tour will have given you, though you came home swarthy with an Egyptian's face.