Leave colouring thy tresses, I did cry;
Now hast thou left no hairs at all to dye.
But what had been more fair had they been kept?
Beyond thy robes thy dangling locks had swept.
Fear'dst thou to dress them being fine and thin,
Like to the silk the curious[211] Seres spin.
Or threads which spider's slender foot draws out,
Fastening her light web some old beam about?
Not black nor golden were they to our view,
Yet although [n]either, mixed of either's hue;10