"Straightway, while yet a new-born babe the poet drawled and with earliest accents sweetly whimpered, Calliope took him to her loving bosom. Then first did she lay aside her grief and cease her long lament for Orpheus, and said: ‘O boy, consecrate to poesy, soon destined to outmatch the bards of old, thou shalt move no rivers or wild herds of Thracian ash-trees with thy music, but with eloquent son shalt draw after thee the seven hills of Martian Tiber.’"
-Statius, Silvae 2. 7. 36

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