Book VII, Epigram 6 (Ker)

Turned usward from Hyperborean shores, is Caesar now bent on treading Ausonian ways? Sure witness is there none, yet every voice so tells us; thee, Report, I trust; thou art wont to speak the truth. Despatches of victory attest the public joy; the pikes of war are green with laurel-crowned heads. Again — O joy! — Rome shouts thy mighty triumphs, and in thy city, Caesar, thou art proclaimed Unconquered. But now, that faith in our delight be greater still, come, thyself the herald of thy Sarmatian bay.