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 1    IV|     gamesome wind among her tresses plays,~And curleth up those
 2     V| Gerrard followed, then with tresses hoar~Old Wenceslaus, that
 3   VII|    silver locks were golden tresses then,~That country life
 4  XIII| Thither went Ismen old with tresses hoar,~When night on all
 5  XIII|   vermeil drops at even his tresses bleed,~Foreshows of future
 6   XIV|   first he saw, with golden tresses, peep~The rising visage
 7    XV|     Over her face her amber tresses fall,~Whereunder Love himself
 8   XVI|   from land~Mongst the rich tresses of their pilot's head,~And
 9  XVII|  turban strange adorned his tresses hoar.~ ~ XI~His right hand
10   XIX|  tender child~Doth tear her tresses loose, complain and fly,~
11   XIX|    she sighed, and tore her tresses fine,~And from her eyes