Part 44

In the first edition, conformably to the original plan of the Pastoral, the passage stood thus:

Do lovers dream, or is my shepherd kind? He comes, my shepherd comes.--WAKEFIELD.]

Parcite, ab urbe venit, jam parcite carmina, Daphnis.

Stafford's translation in Dryden's Miscellany:

Cease, cease, my charms, My Daphnis comes, he comes, he flies into my arms.]

While I my Nisa's perjured faith deplore. Yet shall my dying breath to heav'n complain.]

Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox In his loose traces from the furrow came.--WAKEFIELD.]

And the fleet shades fly gliding o'er the green.--POPE.

These two verses are obviously adumbrated from the conclusion of Virgil's first eclogue, and Dryden's version of it:

For see yon sunny hill the shade extends And curling smoke from cottages ascends.--WAKEFIELD.]

tenerisque meos incidere amores Arboribus. The rind of ev'ry plant her name shall know. Dryden.--WAKEFIELD.

Garth's Dispensary, Canto vi:

Their wounded bark records some broken vow, And willow garlands hang on ev'ry bough.]

Pan deus Arcadiæ venit . . . . Omnes, unde amor iste, rogant tibi.--WAKEFIELD.]

Nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos.--POPE.

Dryden's version of the original:

What magic has bewitched the woolly dams, And what ill eyes beheld the tender lambs.--WAKEFIELD.]

What eyes but hers, alas! have pow'r on me; Oh mighty Love! what magic is like thee?--POPE.]

Nunc scio quid sit amor. Duris in cotibus illum, etc.--POPE.

Stafford's version of the original in Dryden's Miscellanies:

I know thee, Love! on mountains thou wast bred.

Pope was not unmindful of Dryden's translation:

I know thee, Love! in deserts thou wert bred, And at the dugs of savage tigers fed.

He had in view also a passage in the Æneid, iv. 366, and Dryden's version of it:

But hewn from hardened entrails of a rock, And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck.

Nor did our author overlook the parallel passage in Ovid's Epistle of Dido to Æneas, and Dryden's translation thereof:

From hardened oak, or from a rock's cold womb, At least thou art from some fierce tigress come; Or on rough seas, from their foundation torn, Got by the winds, and in a tempest born.--WAKEFIELD.]

I know thee, Love! wild as the raging main, More fell than tigers on the Lybian plain.]