In short, they always died, perhaps for want of proper
sustenance: but the owner thought that by their fierce and wild
demeanour they frighted their foster-mothers, and so were starved.
Virgil, as a familiar occurrence, by way of simile, describes a dove
haunting the cavern of a rock in such engaging numbers, that I
cannot refrain from quoting the passage: and John Dryden has
rendered it so happily in our language, that without farther excuse I
shall add his translation also.
Qualis spelunca subito commota Columba,
Cui domus, et dulces latebroso in pumice nidi,
Fertur in arva volans, plausumque exterrita pennis
Dat tecto ingentem--mox aere lapse quieto,
Radit iter liquidum, celeres neque commovet alas.
As when a dove her rocky hold forsakes,
Rous'd, in her fright her sounding wings she shakes;
The cavern rings with clattering:--out she flies,
And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies:
At first she flutters:--but at length she springs
To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings.
I am, etc.
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