De laudibus Stilichonis 2, 247-55

Then Rome speaks thus: “Factors near at hand proclaim how great my power is now you (Honorius) are Emperor. With the Saxons subjugated the sea is now more peaceful, with the Picts broken Britain is secure.” Next spoke Britannia, dressed in the skin of some Caledonian beast, her cheeks tattooed, her sea-blue mantle sweeping over her footsteps like the surge of Ocean: “I too, when on the point of death at the hands of neighbouring tribes, found in Stilicho protection, when the Scots roused all Ireland and the sea foamed beneath hostile oars. His care ensured I need not fear the missiles of the Scots, nor tremble at the Picts, nor watch on all my shores for Saxons to arrive with every shifting wind.”