Delphi Complete Works of Longus

by Longus

  “We came here,” they said, “to hunt, and having fastened our boat to the shore with a withfe of osiers, we roamed about with our dogs in search of game. In the meantime this young man’s goats came to the shore and ate the osiers that secured our boat, whereby it was lost. You yourself saw it borne out to sea: and what valuables think you it contained? Why, a great store of raiment and dog-gear, and more money than would suffice to purchase all these fields around us? As some compensation for what we have lost, we have surely a right to carry off this heedless goatherd, who understands his calling so badly that he pastures his goats on the sea-shore.”

  Thus spoke the Methymnaeans. Daphnis was in a sorry plight from the blows he had received, but seeing Chloe among the crowd, he bore his pain without complaint, and answered as follows:

  “I am, and always have been very careful of my goats, and no one in the village can say that a goat of mine ever broused in his garden, or devoured any of his sprouting vines. These sportsmen are themselves to blame, for their dogs are so badly broken that they ran about here and there barking so loudly that they alarmed my goats, and like so many wolves drove them from the slopes towards the shore. No wonder that the poor animals ate the osiers, could they find grass, or shrubs, or thyme upon the sands? The sea and the winds destroyed the boat: let the storm bear the blame and not my goats. They say that they had left their clothes and money on board; but who, in his senses, can believe that a boat freighted with so much wealth had but a withe of osiers as its cable?”

  Daphnis ceased speaking and burst into tears, whereat all his countrymen were moved with compassion, and Philetas, the judge, having to render his sentence, swore by Pan and the Nymphs, that neither Daphnis nor his goats were in fault, that only the sea and the winds could be accused, and that they were not under his jurisdiction. But this decision failed to content the Methymnaeans, who, in a great fury, seized Daphnis and would have bound him, had not the villagers, irritated at such behaviour, sprung upon them as thick as starlings and rescued the young goatherd, who, on his side, began to fight in his own defence. With stones and sticks the villagers soon put the Methymnaeans to flight, and did not desist from the pursuit, till they had driven them from that part of the island.

  While the country folk were engaged in the pursuit, Chloe led Daphnis gently by the hand to the Grotto of the Nymphs, where she washed away the blood from his face and nostrils. Then taking some bread and cheese from her scrip she entreated him to eat, and, to comfort him the more efficaciously, pressed her tender lips to his, and gave him a kiss as sweet as honey.

  Thus did Daphnis escape from the danger which had threatened him; but the affair did not end there. The Methymnaeans reached their own city with great difficulty and in sore distress; for instead of sailing in a fine boat, they had to travel afoot, and in place of luxury and convenience they had but bruises and wounds for their comfort. Immediately upon their arrival at home they called an assembly of their fellow townsmen, and entreated them to take up arms to avenge the treatment they had received; concealing the real truth of the matter for fear of being laughed at for having been so soundly beaten by a few shepherds. They accused the Mitylenaeans of seizing their boat, as if it had belonged to an enemy, and of plundering it of all its contents.

  Their wounds, which they displayed, gained them belief among their countrymen, who resolved to avenge their cause, the more particularly, as they belonged to the first families in the place. Accordingly they resolved to begin the war without the usual forms of proclamation, and instructed their naval commander to launch ten galleys immediately, and ravage the coasts of the enemy. As the winter was near at hand they did not think it safe to hazard a larger fleet.

  Their commander put to sea early the next day; he employed his soldiers as rowers, and directed his course to the shores of Mitylene where he seized numbers of cattle, a great quantity of corn and wine — the vintage being but lately ended — together with the men who were at work in the fields. Thus plundering as they went, the soldiers landed at last on the estate where Daphnis and Chloe pastured their goats and sheep, and carried off whatever spoil they could find. Daphnis, who quitting his goats had betaken himself to the woods to cut some green branches as winter-fodder for his kids, looked down from among the trees and witnessing the ravages promptly hid himself in the hollow of a decayed tree. Meanwhile Chloe, who had remained in charge of the herds, fled in affright to the Grotto of the Nymphs, and thither the invaders pursued her. Here she entreated them, if they had any respect for the Deities of the place, to spare her and her flocks: but her prayers were of no avail: for the Methymnaeans, after insulting the statues of the Nymphs, drove off the flocks together with Chloe, whom they hurried on before them, whipping her with switches, as if she had been one of her own goats or sheep.

  Their vessels being now full of plunder, the Methymnaeans deemed it advisable not to prosecute their voyage any farther, the more especially as they were apprehensive of the winter-storms, and of an attack on the part of the inhabitants. Accordingly they turned their prows homeward; but, as there was no wind, they had to use their oars, and made way but slowly.

  Daphnis (when all was quiet) came down to the plain where the flocks were wont to pasture, but not a goat nor a sheep was to be seen, nor was Chloe herself there. When he beheld the whole place deserted and found Chloe’s pipe on the ground, he burst into loud and bitter lamentations and ran to the beech tree, beneath which they usually sat, and then to the shore, to try if he could see her. Then he searched for her in the grotto, whither she had fled, and whence she had been dragged away. Here, he threw himself on the ground in despair, before the statues of the Nymphs whom he charged with having deserted Chloe:

  “Chloe has been carried away from you, O Nymphs, and could you endure to see it, she who has woven so many garlands for you, who has offered you so many libations of new milk, she who suspended here that pipe — which I see — as an offering? Never did wolf rob me of a single one of my goats, but now marauders have carried away my entire herd, and the shepherdess, my companion, with them. My goats will be flayed, the sheep will be sacrificed, and Chloe will henceforth be confined in some city far away! How shall I dare to return to my father and mother? It will appear as if I had deserted my charge. I have no flocks left to tend, so here will I lie, till death take me, or other enemies come to carry me away. Ah! Chloe, are you also suffering, do you still remember these plains, the Nymphs and me, or do the goats and sheep, your fellow captives, serve to console you in your sorrow?”

  Thus did Daphnis vent his grief, till at last weary with weeping and lamenting he fell into a deep sleep. Whilst he was slumbering the three Nymphs appeared before him; they were tall and beautiful, half-naked and without sandals; their hair fell loosely over their shoulders, and in every respect they resembled the statues in the grotto. They began by evincing pity for Daphnis, and, presently, the eldest of them addressed him in the following consolatory manner:

  “Do not complain of us, Daphnis; we take more interest in Chloe than you yourself do. We took compassion on her when she was an infant: when she was exposed in this grotto we adopted her and saw to her bringing up. She is no more the daughter of Dryas than you are the son of Lamon. We are even now watching over her, and the Methymnaeans shall not make her a slave, nor treat her as part of their spoil. We have entreated Pan (whose statue stands beneath yonder pine, and whom you have never honoured even with a bunch of flowers) to succour Chloe, for he is more used to warfare than we are, and has often quitted his groves to join in the fray. Pan is now on Chloe’s side, and the Methymnaeans will find him no trifling enemy. Be not distressed or perplexed, but arise and show yourself to Lamon and Myrtale, who have thrown themselves on the earth in despair, under the idea that you also have been carried off by the enemy. Tomorrow Chloe will return with the flocks, which you will again tend together, playing on your pipes. Leave your future fates to the care of Love.”

  Having beheld this vision and heard these words Daphni
s sprang up, and, with his eyes full of tears, partly of grief and partly of delight, he paid his adorations to the Nymphs, and vowed that upon Chloe’s safe return he would sacrifice the best she-goat of his herd to the protecting Deities. Then leaving the grotto he ran to the pine beneath the shade of which Pan’s statue stood. The rural God had the legs and hoofs of a goat, and horns sprouted from his forehead. In one hand he held a pipe, whilst with the other he grasped a bounding goat. Daphnis paid his adorations to Pan, to whom he prayed in behalf of Chloe, promising that he would sacrifice a he-goat to the God in return for her safety. Scarcely did he cease from his tears and entreaties until the setting of the sun, when taking up the green fodder which he had cut in the woods, he returned home, where his presence dispelled the grief of Lamon and Myrtale, and filled them with joy. After eating a morsel Daphnis retired to rest; but his sleep was not void of tears. In his slumber he prayed to the Nymphs to bless him with another vision, and sighed for the return of day, when according to the promise of the goddesses, his Chloe was to be restored to him. Never had night seemed to him so long before. Whilst it lasted this is what took place:

  When the Methymnaean commander had proceeded rather more than a league, he found his men very weary with the rowing, and wished to afford them some rest. Espying a promontory, which projected into the sea in the form of a crescent, affording as secure a harbour as any regular port, he here dropped anchor, near to a high rock, keeping his vessels at some distance from the shore so that his men might indulge themselves at their ease, without fear of attack from the inhabitants of the coast. The crews, having plenty of provisions among their plunder, ate and drank and gave themselves up to rejoicing, as if they had been celebrating a festival of victory. But when the day closed in, and the night put an end to their banquet, it suddenly seemed to them that all the earth was in a blaze; and from the open came a sound of splashing oars, as if a great fleet were approaching. They called upon their commander to prepare for defence; they shouted to one another, and all was confusion; some fancied themselves already wounded, others that they could see the corpses of the slain lying before them. There was as much tumult as in an engagement by night, yet no enemy was visible.

  Terrible as was the night, the day that followed filled them with yet greater fright, for they beheld Daphnis’s goats, with branches of ivy, thick with berries, on their horns; and they heard Chloe’s rams and ewes howling like wolves instead of bleating. Their mistress was seen to have a garland of pine-leaves on her head. Still stranger sights appeared on the sea. The anchors of the vessels stuck so fast in the mud that they could not be drawn up: the oars as soon as dipped were shattered in pieces. Dolphins leaped from the sea around the vessels, and broke many planks with their tails. From the summit of the rock near which the fleet was anchored, the sound of a shepherd’s pipe was heard; but instead of delighting the ear with soft music, it terrified one like a war — like trumpet blast. The men of Methymna were confounded; they ran to arms, and called out that the enemy was coming, though no enemy could be seen. Then they prayed for the return of night, thinking that might bring some relief from their terrors.

  To all those among them who were capable of reflection, it was evident that these phantasms and sounds proceeded from Pan, who must have some cause of anger against them: but what that cause could be, they were at a loss to conjecture, inasmuch as they had not plundered anything that was sacred to the God. Towards noontide their commander (by the express intervention of the Deity), fell into a deep sleep, in which Pan in person appeared to him and addressed him in these words:

  “O most wicked and impious of men, to what lengths has your madness driven you! You have filled the fields, which are dear to me, with the tumult of war: you have taken as plunder the herds and flocks, which were my peculiar care. You have dragged from the altar a virgin whom Cupid had reserved to adorn a tale of love. You scorned both the Nymphs, who beheld your deeds, and me the mighty Pan. Never shall you reach Methymna with these spoils, nor shall you escape the terrors of the pipe which has thus confounded you. I will submerge you in the sea and give you as food to the fishes unless you immediately restore Chloe to the Nymphs, together with the herds and flocks. So arise forthwith, set Chloe on shore with all that I have spoken of, and then I will guide you homeward by sea and her by land.”

  At these words Bryaxis — thus was the commander named — awoke with a troubled start from his dream, and immediately ordered the captain of each galley to search among his captives for Chloe, a young shepherdess. They soon found her, for her garland of pine-leaves made her conspicuous, and brought her before him. Bryaxis regarded the ornament on her head as a proof and confirmation of what he had seen and heard in the vision, and without delay took her on board his own vessel, the flagship, and conveyed her safely to shore. Scarcely had she set foot on the ground, than the pipe was again heard sounding from the rock: but the sound was no longer dreadful like the blast of the war trumpet: it was sweet as the strains that shepherds play when leading their flocks to pasture. The sheep without stumbling descended the plank, which was placed as a gangway to the shore; and the goats, accustomed to steep places, skipped yet more boldly along. Upon reaching the land they all formed in a ring around Chloe, like a chorus of dancers, skipping and bleating and exhibiting every symptom of joy; whereas the flocks of other shepherds remained quiet in the holds of the ships, as if aware that the pipe which sounded was not summoning them. At this the spectators were struck with astonishment, and confessed the power of Pan.

  Meanwhile still stranger sights appeared by sea and land. Before the crews had time to heave their anchors, the ships of themselves made sail, and a dolphin, leaping and sporting on the waves, swam before the commander’s ship as a guide; whilst on shore Chloe’s goats and sheep were led along by the sweet music of the pipe, which continued sounding deliciously, though the player was still invisible. The animals seemingly listened with delight to the melody as they browsed and paced gently onward.

  It was the time of evening-pasture when Daphnis from the summit of a rock espied his Chloe and her flocks. “O Nymphs! O Pan!” he shouted in rapture, and hurrying down to the plain he threw himself into Chloe’s arms, so full of delight that he fell fainting to the ground. Chloe’s kisses and embraces at length restored him to his senses; whereupon they both repaired to their favourite beech-tree, under the shade of which they sat down, Daphnis inquiring of Chloe how she had escaped from so many enemies. She related every thing that had happened — her abduction in the grotto, her departure on board ship, the appearance of the ivy on the goats’ horns, and of the pine garland on her own brow, the wolfish howling of the sheep, the blaze of fire on shore, the strange noise at sea, the alternately warlike and peaceful notes of the pipe, the terrors of the night — and finally how the melody had guided her thither, through fields and over plains to which she was a stranger.

  On hearing this, Daphnis recalled his vision of the Nymphs, and recognised the influence of Pan; and, in his turn, he gave Chloe an account of all that he had seen and heard. He informed her how, whilst dying of love and regret, he had been preserved by the intervention of the Nymphs. He then sent Chloe to summon Dryas and Lamon with their servants, and to request them to bring everything requisite for a sacrifice, whilst, in the meantime, he took the fattest of his she-goats, crowned it with ivy (just as it had appeared to the enemy on board ship), poured a libation of milk between its horns, and slew it as a sacrifice to the Nymphs. Then having hung it up he flayed it, suspended the skin to the rock and consecrated it to the Goddesses.

  When Chloe arrived with Lamon and the servants a fire was immediately kindled and part of the goat’s flesh was boiled and part of it roasted. First offerings were presented to the Nymphs to whom Daphnis poured a libation of new unfermented wine. Then, having piled some leaves and green branches together in the form of couches for all who were present, he reclined at his ease upon one of them and gave himself up to good cheer and to mirth: albeit at the same time he
kept a watchful eye on the flocks for fear lest a wolf should surprise them. When they had all regaled themselves they began to sing songs in praise of the Nymphs — songs that had been composed by the shepherds of former times. They all slept in the field that night, and in the morning bethought themselves of Pan. The buck goat that usually led the herd was selected as a sacrifice, and with a chaplet of pine-leaves bound round his horns was led to the statue of the God beneath the pine. Here libations were poured upon his horns, the blessing of the God was invoked in fitting language and the victim was sacrificed, suspended and flayed. The flesh, part of which was roasted and part boiled, was spread out on some leaves in the meadow whilst the skin together with the horns was hung upon the tree nigh to the statue of the God — a pastoral offering to a pastoral deity. Neither did they neglect to present a first offering of cooked flesh to Pan or to pour to him the wonted libations from the largest goblet. Chloe sang while Daphnis piped.