1 Bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Genesis. XLII. 38. 2 Beware of her fair hair, for she excels All women in the magic of her locks; And when she winds them round a young man's neck, She will not ever set him free again. GOETHE-Scenes from Faust. Sc. The Hartz Mountain. L. 335. SHELLEY'S trans. 3 Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air. It was brown with a golden gloss, Janette, 'Twas the loveliest hair in the world, my pet. CHAS. G. HALPINE (MILES O'REILLY)Janette's Hair. For why, she cries, sit still and weep, ANNE HUNTER-My Mother Bids Me Bind My 12 Though time has touched it in his flight, 13 Her cap of velvet could not hold The tresses of her hair of gold, That flowed and floated like the stream. LONGFELLOW-Christus. The Golden Legend. 14 You manufacture, with the aid of unguents, a false head of hair, and your bald and dirty skull is covered with dyed locks. There is no need to have a hairdresser for your head. A sponge, Phoebus, would do the business better. MARTIAL-Epigrams. Bk. VI. Ep. 57. 15 You collect your straggling hairs on each side, Marinus, endeavoring to conceal the vast expanse of your shining bald pate by the locks which still grow on your temples. But the hairs disperse, and return to their own place with every gust of wind; flanking your bare poll on either side with crude tufts. We might imagine we saw Hermeros of Cydas standing between Speudophorus and Telesphorus. Why not confess yourself an old man? Be content to seem what you really are, and let the barber shave off the rest of your hair. There is nothing more contemptible than a bald man who pretends to have hair. MARTIAL-Epigrams. Bk. X. Ep. 83. 16 The very hairs of your head are all numbered. Matthew. X. 30. 17 Munditiis capimur: non sine lege capillis. We are charmed by neatness of person; let not thy hair be out of order. OVID-Ars Amatoria. 18 III. 133. Her head was bare; But for her native ornament of hair; Which in a simple knot was tied above, Sweet negligence, unheeded bait of love! OVID Metamorphoses. Meleager and Atalanta. L. 68. DRYDEN's trans. 19 Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare, 20 Hoary whiskers and a forky beard. POPE-Rape of the Lock. Canto III. L. 37. 21 Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravish'd hair Which adds new glory to the shining sphere; |