poetry and recited this little elegy upon hair:

"Gone are those locks that to thy beauty lent such lustrous charm
And blighted are the locks of Spring by bitter Winter's sway;
Thy naked temples now in baldness mourn their vanished form,
And glistens now that poor bare crown, its hair all worn away
Oh! Faithless inconsistency! The gods must first resume
The charms that first they granted youth, that it might lovelier
bloom!
Poor wretch, but late thy locks did brighter glister
Than those of great Apollo or his sister!
Now, smoother is thy crown than polished grasses
Or rounded mushrooms when a shower passes!
In fear thou fliest the laughter-loving lasses.
That thou may'st know that Death is on his way,
Know that thy head is partly dead this day!"




CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TENTH.

It is my opinion that he intended favoring us with more of the same kind
of stuff, sillier than the last, but Tryphaena's maid led Giton away
below and fitted the lad out in her mistress' false curls; then producing
some eyebrows from a vanity box, she skillfully traced out the lines of
the lost features and restored him to his proper comeliness. Recognizing
the real Giton, Tryphaena was moved to tears, and then for the first time
she gave the boy a real love-kiss. I was overjoyed, now that the lad was
restored to his own handsome self, but I hid my own face all the more