Ovid: ARS AMATORIA

But I don’t forbid your hair being freely combed,
so that it falls, loosely spread, across your shoulders.
Beware especially lest you’re irritable then,
or are always loosening your failed hairstyle again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

the dress you wear, was greasy wool:
That was rough marble, now it forms a famous statue,
naked Venus squeezing water from her wet hair.
We’ll think you too are sleeping while you do your face:
fit to be seen after the final touches.
Why should I know the source of the brightness in your looks?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

How near I was to warning you, no rankness of the wild goat
under your armpits, no legs bristling with harsh hair!
But I’m not teaching girls from the Caucasian hills,
or those who drink your waters, Mysian Caicus.