Of silk whose threads the far-off eastern tribes
From leaves of trees collect. Gird high my robes;390
I'll wear no necklace, nor shall snowy pearls,
The gift of Indian seas, weigh down my ears.
No nard from far Assyria shall scent
My locks; thus loosely tossing let them fall
Around my neck and shoulders; let them stream
Upon the wind, by my swift running stirred.395
Upon my left I'll wear a quiver girt,
And in my right hand will I brandish free