Delphi Complete Works of Longus

by Longus

  They now determined to pay the last honours to their benefactor, and accordingly they came with the neighbours and relatives of the deceased and buried him. They threw up over his grave a large pile of earth, round which they planted several trees, and upon these they hung the first-fruits of their autumnal labours. Then they poured upon the grave libations of milk and juice pressed from the grapes, and broke many pastoral pipes. The cattle were heard lowing most lamentably, several of them were seen wandering and running about in disorder and the shepherds believed that these were lamentations and marks of sorrow for their departed master.

  When the funeral was over Chloe led Daphnis to the grotto of the Nymphs where she assisted him in his ablutions, and then for the first time in his presence she washed her own white polished form which needed no bath, however, to enhance its loveliness. Then they gathered some of the flowers of the season, crowned the statues with garlands and hung up Dorcon’s pipe as a votive offering to the Nymphs. This being accomplished they returned to their sheep and goats which they found lying on the ground neither browsing nor bleating but worried, as it were, by the absence of their keepers. However, as soon as Daphnis and Chloe came in view of the animals and called to them in their usual manner and sounded their pipes, the sheep sprang up and began to browse, while the goats skipped about as if exulting in the return of their herdsman.

  But Daphnis was unable to tune his soul to joy since he had seen Chloe bathing. He felt a gnawing pain at his heart as if some venom were secretly at work there. Now he panted as if he were flying from some pressing pursuer; and now his breath was quite gone as if he were exhausted with running and had no strength left him. The bath which Chloe had taken was apparently more fraught with peril than the sea from which he had escaped. As for himself he attributed his feelings to being in fancy still among the pirates. The rustic youth was as yet ignorant of the wiles of love.

  Book 2

  It was now the middle of autumn — the vintage season was at hand, and everyone was busy in the fields. One prepared the wine presses, another cleansed the jars, and another twisted the osiers into baskets. Each had a separate employ — in sharpening the pruning hooks, in suspending the mill-stone for pounding the grapes, after they had been trodden underfoot, or in preparing dry osiers, stripped of their bark, which were to serve as torches, so that the must might be drawn off during the night. Daphnis and Chloe neglected their flocks for a time to share in the labours of the vintage. He carried the grapes in baskets, threw them into the wine-press, trod them, and then helped to draw off the wine into the jars; while she prepared food for the grape-gatherers, and brought them some wine of the previous year so that they might quench their thirst. Sometimes she also employed herself in plucking the lower bunches of grapes; and indeed almost all the vines in Lesbos grew low. Instead of shooting upwards, or twining around trees, they spread their branches downwards, and some of the branches trailed along, like ivy, so close to the ground, that an infant might have culled the fruit.

  The women, who, according to the custom at this festival of Bacchus, the vintage season, were called from the neighbouring villages to lend assistance, cast their eyes upon Daphnis, and exclaimed that he was as handsome as Bacchus himself. Indeed one of the most forward of these wenches gave him a kiss, which elated Daphnis, but tormented poor Chloe.

  On the other hand, the men treading in the wine-presses were loud in their praises of Chloe, and at sight of her they danced and stamped like so many Satyrs in presence of a Bacchante; exclaiming that they would gladly become sheep to be fed and tended by such a shepherdess. These compliments delighted Chloe, and tormented poor Daphnis.

  Each of them thus wished the vintage at an end, so that they might return to their usual haunts and, instead of this senseless clamour, hear the sound of their pipes and the bleating of their sheep.

  In a few days the vines were stripped, the grapes were trodden, and the wine was poured into the jars, so that fewer hands were wanted, and they were at liberty to drive their flocks to the fields. In the fervour of their joy they went to pay their adoration to the Nymphs, carrying vine-branches laden with clusters of grapes, as first-fruit offerings of the vintage. Indeed, they had never passed the grotto without leaving some token of respect. In the morning when they led their flocks to pasture, and again in the evening ere they started home, they paid worship to the Deities, and presented either a flower, a green bough, some fruit, or a libation of milk, as an offering; and this piety, as we shall see presently, had its reward. But now their gratitude and joy were extravagant; they sprang about, like young dogs just let loose from their kennels; they piped, they sang; and they wrestled together in imitation of their goats and rams.

  While they were thus disporting and enjoying themselves, an old man, clothed in a coarse garment of goatskin, with shabby shoes on his feet, and with a wallet (and that wallet a very old one) at his back, came up to them, seated himself near them, and addressed them as follows:

  “I, my children, am old Philetas. I have often sung the praises of the Nymphs of yonder grotto, I have often piped in honour of Pan, and I was wont to guide my herds by the music of my voice. If I have come to you here, it is to acquaint you with what I have seen and to relate to you what I have heard. I have a garden which I cultivate with my own hands, and in which I have never ceased to work since I have been too old to attend my herds. In this garden I obtain every product of nature in due season; in the spring it abounds with roses, lilies, hyacinths, and violets of the deepest bloom; in the summer with poppies, pears, and apples of every kind; and now in autumn, with grapes, figs, pomegranates and green myrtles. A variety of birds fly into my garden every morning, some in search of food, and some to warble in the shade, for the boughs grow very thick, and three fountains water the cool retreat. So thickly is it planted with trees that if it were not enclosed with a wall, it might be taken for a natural wood.

  “As I entered it to-day about noon, I espied a little boy among my pomegranates and myrtles, some of which he had gathered; and he was holding them in his hands. His complexion was as white as milk, his hair ruddy like flames, while his countenance shone as if it had just been washed. He was naked and alone, and was amusing himself with plucking my fruit with as much freedom as if it had been his own garden. Being apprehensive lest he might commit more mischief and break my plants, I sprang forward to seize him, but the little rogue skipt lightly from me, sometimes gliding between the rose-trees, and sometimes hiding himself like a young partridge under the poppies.

  “I formerly exerted myself to good purpose in running after my sucking kids, or in catching my newly-dropt calves as they skipped around their mothers, but this urchin was so nimble, that it was utterly impossible to lay hold of him. Old as I am I soon became weary of the pursuit; so, leaning on my staff to support myself, and keeping my eyes on him that he might not escape, I asked him what neighbour he belonged to, and what he meant by trespassing in another person’s garden.

  “He made no reply, but approaching near me, he smiled sweetly in my face, and pelted me with myrtle-berries, and (I know not how) so won upon me, that I could not be angry. Then I entreated him to come to me, and assured him that he need not be afraid, for I swore by the myrtles, that if he only gave me one kiss I would give him apples and pomegranates in plenty, and that ever afterwards he should have liberty to gather as much fruit and as many flowers as he pleased.

  “Upon hearing me thus address him, he burst into a loud laugh; and gracefully, in a voice sweeter than that of the nightingale, the swallow, or the swan — were the latter even as old as I am — he replied, ‘It would not pain me to kiss you, Philetas, for I am as willing to kiss, as you can be to grow young again; but consider whether the gift would suit your age: for if I gave you but one kiss, old though you are, you could not stay from pursuing me; and yet there is no hawk, or eagle, or any other bird, swift as may be his flight, that can overtake me. I am not the child you take me to be. I look like a child; but I am older tha
n Saturn, aye, older than Time himself. I knew you well, Philetas, when you were in the flower of your youth, and when you tended your wide-spread herds in yonder marsh. I was near you, when you sat beneath those beech-trees, and piped and sang the praises of your sweetheart Amaryllis: I was close to the damsel, but you could not discern me. I gave her to you, and some brave boys, who are now excellent husbandmen and herdsmen, are the pledges of your love. At the present time I have taken charge of Daphnis and Chloe; and when I have brought them together in the morning, I retire to your garden: here I amuse myself with your flowers and plants, and here I bathe in your fountain. Through me it is that your flowers and shrubs thrive so charmingly, for the waters, which have bathed me, refresh them. Look now, if any of your plants be broken down! See if any of your fruit be plucked! Examine whether the stalk of any flower be crushed, or the clearness of your fountain disturbed! Rejoice rather, old man, that you are the first, who at your age ever won the good will of this little boy.’

  “With these words he sprang like a young nightingale among the myrtles, and climbing from bough to bough ascended through the foliage to the summit of a tree. I observed wings upon his shoulders, and between them a bow and arrows, but to my great astonishment, a moment afterwards I could see neither him nor them. Now, if I have not grown grey in vain, if I have not grown foolish, whilst growing old, you may rely on me, when I tell you, that you are consecrated to Love, and that Love has adopted you as his own.”

  Daphnis and Chloe were delighted, but they regarded what they heard as a fable rather than as fact; and they inquired of Philetas, who and what this Love could be? Whether he was a boy or a bird? And what powers he could exert?

  “My young friends,” replied Philetas, “Love is a God, young, beautiful, and ever on the wing. He, therefore, rejoices in the company of youth, he is ever in search of beauty, and gives wings to the souls of his favourites. His power far exceeds that of Jove. He commands the elements: he rules the stars: he governs the world: and even the Gods themselves are more obedient to him than your flocks are to you. All these flowers are the works of Love: these plants and shrubs are his offspring. — Through him these rivers flow, and these zephyrs breathe. Whoever is smitten by him is struck, as it were, with madness. I have seen the bull swayed by love, lowing as if the dunfly had stung him; I have seen the young he-goat in love with the she-goat, and following her everywhere. I myself was young and felt Love’s influence. I loved Amaryllis. I forgot to eat or to drink; and I could take no rest, for sleep was banished from my eyelids. My soul was sad, my heart beat quick, my limbs felt a deadly chill. Now I wept and cried aloud, as if I had been beaten, now I was as silent as if I were dead, and now I plunged into the rivers, as if to extinguish the flame which consumed me. I called upon Pan to assist me, as he also had suffered in his love for Pitys. I poured forth praises to the Nymph Echo for repeating the name of Amaryllis. I broke my pipes because, although they brought my herds to me, they could not allure Amaryllis: for there is no remedy for the passion, no beverage, no charm, no song, no words that can ease the lover; nothing is of any avail save kisses and the closest embraces.”

  Philetas, having given them this and further information, bade them farewell, but before they permitted him to depart, they presented him with a cheese, and a kid whose horns were just beginning to sprout. Then, being left to themselves, they mused in silence upon the name of Love, which they had just heard for the first time. Their distress was now greater than before, and on returning home, they spent the night in comparing their own sensations with what they had heard from Philetas.

  “Philetas said that they who are smitten by Love, become sad; so are we sad: — that they care neither for food nor drink; nor do we: — that they cannot sleep; nor can we: — that they burn; and we feel a fire within us: — that they are always desirous of each other’s company; and all we long for is that daylight may soon return. So our disorder must be Love, and we have learnt to love each other without being conscious of it. But if this be love, surely we are loved; so what else can it be that we long for? Why are we so sad and restless? Why do we so eagerly seek each other? All that Philetas told us is true. The boy, whom he saw in the garden, is he who appeared to our parents in the dream, and commanded that we should be devoted to a pastoral life. How is it possible to catch the urchin? He is little, and will flee from us. At the same time, who can flee from him? He has wings, and will pursue us. Ought we to implore the assistance of the Nymphs? But then Pan did not help Philetas when he loved Amaryllis. He told us that our only remedy would be in kissing and embracing one another.”

  Such was their conversation as they walked homeward in the evening. On the morrow at daybreak, when they led their flocks to pasture, they kissed each other as soon as they met — which they had never done before — and opening their arms exchanged an embrace. Further than that they durst not go. To do exactly as Philetas had told them appeared too bold to a young shepherdess like Chloe, aye, even to a young goatherd like Daphnis. Again did they pass a sleepless night, their minds busy in thinking of what they had done; and they reflected:

  “We kissed, yet it was of no avail, we embraced, yet we found no relief. The sole remedy for love must consist in reposing side by side. Surely there must be something more efficacious than kissing.”

  Their dreams, as might be expected after such thoughts, were dreams of love and kisses. When they arose on the morrow they were more than ever inflamed with passion, and whilst urging on their flocks they longed to meet again so that they might renew their kisses. As soon as they espied one another they hastened forward with smiling faces, kissed and embraced. The other remedy, however, was still left untried. Daphnis was unwilling to mention it, and Chloe durst not take the initiative. But chance led them to it in this wise. They were seated side by side under an oak, and, having once tasted of the pleasure of kissing, were unable to cease their endearments. To kiss the closer they embraced one another, and as Daphnis strained Chloe to his bosom, she fell upon her side and he with her. For a long time they remained thus locked in one another’s arms, without thought of aught else, for they imagined that love had nothing further to bestow. The evening found them in the same embrace, and then, cursing the approach of night, they parted and drove their flocks homeward. They might perchance have soon become enlightened as to the mysteries of love had not a great tumult arose in the surrounding country.

  Some rich young men of Methymna, having formed a pleasure-party for the vintage-season, had embarked in a small vessel, employing their servants as rowers and shaping their course towards the fields of Mitylene, which lie near the sea-shore. They knew that there was here an excellent harbour for them, and that this part of the coast was well adapted for bathing, and decked moreover with handsome edifices, gardens, and groves, some the productions of nature, and some the productions of art.

  Here the party arrived, journeying slowly along the coast, touching here and there as their fancy prompted them, and amusing themselves in various ways, without annoyance to any one. Sometimes with rod and line they would angle the fish which swim among the rocks; sometimes with their dogs and nets they would catch the hares which had fled from the vineyards, terrified by the noise of the grape gatherers. Part of their amusement also was to set snares for birds in favourable spots, and they often caught wild ducks, wild geese, bustards, and such other feathered game as frequents the lowlands; and in addition to the pleasure of the sport they thus, in a great measure, supplied their table. Whatever else they might require was easily procured from the labourers in the fields, who were paid more than the value for every thing which they supplied. The young men were mostly inconvenienced by the lack of bread and wine, and good lodging at night time, for as it was late in autumn, they did not think it safe to sleep on board their boat, but in apprehension of the storms, usual at this season, drew the craft on shore.

  Now, it happened that a countryman had broken the old rope, by which the stone was suspended for crushing his grapes af
ter they had been trodden in the wine-press, and being in want of another to supply its place, he had come at night time to the sea-shore, when, finding that the boat had been left without any one to watch it, he had taken the cable by which it was moored, and conveyed it home to supply his need. In the morning the young Methymnaeans made inquiries after their rope, but no one confessed the theft, and after venting their reproaches at this breach of hospitality, they launched their boat and proceeded along the coast. After voyaging rather more than a league they landed on the estate where Daphnis and Chloe dwelt; this appearing to them to be a favourable spot for hare-hunting. Having no cable to moor their bark they twisted some green osiers, the longest they could find, into the form of a rope, and by this means secured the prow of the boat to the shore. Then they let their dogs loose to scent about for game, and fixed their nets. But the dogs in barking and running about hither and thither frightened the goats, who speedily fled from the slopes to the shore, where some of the boldest of them, finding no pasture on the sands, drew nigh to the boat and gnawed the osier-withe which served as a mooring.

  A breeze blowing from the hills caused the waters to swell, and the boat as soon as its moorings parted, was carried off by the waves and borne out to sea. The Methymnaeans perceived the accident, and some of them ran hastily down to the shore, whilst others hurriedly called the dogs together: and all of them cried out so loudly for assistance that the country folk, shepherds, vintagers and labourers came to the spot. But no assistance could avail them, for the wind increased and drove the boat before it with such violence that it was soon out of sight. When the Methymnaeans found themselves thus deprived of their bark, and of all the property which it contained, they inquired for the goatherd, and finding him to be Daphnis, they began to strip him and beat him. One of them even took a dog-leash, and bending Daphnis’s arms behind his back, prepared to bind him. Poor Daphnis, smarting with his beating, cried out for assistance; calling upon all his neighbours, and upon Lamon and Dryas in particular. These old men heard his call and hastened to the spot. They were still vigorous, with hands hardened by the toils of husbandry, and they stoutly took the young man’s part against the Methymnaeans, demanding an inquiry in accordance with the rules of justice. The neighbours who had reached the spot, seconded this demand, to which the Methymnaeans consented, and Philetas, the herdsman, was appointed umpire in the business. He was the oldest man present, and was celebrated among the villagers for the equity of his decisions. Forthwith the Methymnaeans preferred their charge in plain and concise language, suited to the rustic judge before whom they appeared.