Book XII, Epigram 62 (Ker)

Great king of the ancient heaven and of a bygone world, under whose reign was lazy rest and no toil, nor over-tyrannous thunderbolt, nor men that deserved the bolt, when, earth was not cleft to its nether deeps but kept her riches for herself, gladly and graciously come thou to Priscus' festival of joy: it befits thee to attend thy own rites. Thou in the sixth winter. Father most good, bringest him back to his fatherland from peaceful Numa's Latin city.'' Seest thou how, as in a Roman market, hangs cheer, to honour thee, how full is festive luxury? how unsparing the hand? and the tokens on the loaded board? what rich gifts, Saturnus, are measured out to thee? And, to give value and greater praise to such worth, 'tis a father and a frugal man who so celebrates thy rites. And do thou, hallowed Sire (so mayst thou be ever loved thus in thy own December), bid days like these return upon him oft.