Daphnis and Chloe

by Longus

  Chloe did not wait any longer. She was so delighted with the encomium and had desired to kiss Daphnis for so long that she leaped up and gave him a kiss: it was quite simple and clumsy, but entirely capable of setting his heart on fire. Dorcon was upset, and he ran off, seeking another way to make love. But Daphnis, like someone who has been bitten rather than kissed, instantly became gloomy. He shivered now and again, and could not restrain the pounding in his heart; he wanted to look at Chloe, but whenever he looked at her, he turned all red. Then, as never before, he was filled with admiration for her hair, because it was blonde, and her eyes, because they were large like a cow’s, and her complexion, because it was whiter, truly, even than goats’ milk. It was as if he had only now, for the first time, come to possess eyes, as if earlier he had been blind. He did not take any food, except just a taste, and as for drink, if he felt compelled to have any, he took just enough to moisten his mouth. He was quiet and lethargic when earlier he had been more chatty than a grasshopper and livelier than the goats. Even his sheep he neglected; even his pipes he threw away. His face grew paler than summer grass. He talked freely to no one but Chloe. When he was alone and away from her, he talked to himself in this way:

  ‘Whatever did Chloe’s kiss do to me? Her lips are softer than roses, her mouth is sweeter than honey, but her kiss is sharper than a bee sting. I’ve kissed kids many times, I’ve kissed newborn puppies many times – not to mention the calf that Dorcon gave her. But this kiss is something new. I’m short of breath, my heart is pounding, my soul is melting away: yet I want to kiss her again. An evil victory! A strange illness – I don’t even have a name for it! What if Chloe drank some potion before she kissed me? Then why is she not dead? The nightingales are singing, but my pipes are silent; the kids are skipping, but I’m sitting still; the flowers blossom, but I’m not weaving garlands; the violets and the hyacinths are in bloom, but Daphnis withers away. Is even Dorcon going to be better-looking than me?’

  This was what our brave Daphnis felt and said: for the first time, he had tasted love, in word and action. But Dorcon, the cowherd and would-be lover of Chloe, was on the lookout for Dryas to plant the vines nearby, and went towards him with some fine cheeses, and gave them to him as gifts. (He had been a friend of his from the time he used to take the animals to pasture.) Then later, after this gesture had taken effect, he threw in a word about marrying Chloe, and since he was a cowherd, he declared that if he could take her to be his wife, he would give many large gifts: a pair of oxen for ploughing, four hives of bees, fifty apple trees, the hide of a bull to cut into sandals, and every year a weaned calf. Dryas was so easily charmed by the gifts that he almost agreed to the marriage. But then he considered how the girl was worthy of a better husband, and he grew nervous that if his role in the marriage were discovered, the consequences would be dire for him. So he rejected the marriage, asked for Dorcon’s forgiveness and declined the gifts that he had promised.

  This was the second time Dorcon was frustrated of his desires. Now that he had lost his good cheeses in vain, he decided to lay his hands on Chloe when she was alone. Observing that they used to drive their herds to drink on alternate days – one day it was Daphnis, the next day the girl – he devised the sort of trick that is typical of a shepherd. He took the skin of a large wolf, which a bull fighting to protect the cows had killed with its horns, and put it over his body, carrying it on his back down to his feet, so that the front feet folded over his hands, the back feet went over his ankles and the gaping mouth covered his head like the helmet of a hoplite soldier. Making himself look as wild as possible, he waited beside the spring where the goats and the sheep went to drink after their pasture. The spring was in a hollow, and the place all around it was overrun with bear’s foot and brambles and low junipers and thistles: a real wolf could easily have hidden in ambush there. Dorcon hid himself, and waited for drinking time. He had great hopes of getting his hands on Chloe once he had frightened her by his appearance.

  After a little while, Chloe drove her flocks down towards the stream. She left behind Daphnis, who was cutting green leaves to feed the kids after pasture, but the dogs were still following her to protect the flocks and the goats. Dogs are experienced at tracking by scent, and these barked furiously at Dorcon as he moved to take the girl. Attacking him as if he were a wolf, they pounced on him before he could, in his surprise, pull himself up fully, and bit him from the head down to his toes. For a time, Dorcon was embarrassed at being found out and, feeling protected by the skin covering him, he lay quietly in the thicket. But when Chloe, who was upset as soon as she saw him, called Daphnis for help, and when the dogs were ripping apart the skin hanging on his body, Dorcon yelled out loudly and pleaded with the girl for help, even as Daphnis arrived on the scene. They quickly calmed the dogs with their familiar voices and commands, and helped Dorcon, who had been bitten on the thighs and shoulders, to the spring, where they washed the bites. After chewing on the green bark of the elm, they applied it to his wounds. Because of their innocence in amour and its audacities, they thought of the disguise as a country prank. They were not angry, but instead they tried to revive Dorcon’s spirits, and led him by the hand for some distance before they sent him on his way.

  After escaping from such a serious danger, and after being saved not from the jaws of the wolf, as they say, but from the jaws of the dog, Dorcon treated his wounded body. For their part, Daphnis and Chloe worked hard at rounding up the goats and ewes before nightfall. Some of the ewes were disturbed by the wolfskin and upset by the barking dogs, and had climbed up on to the rocks, and some had even run down to the seashore. Indeed, the flocks had been trained to follow their voices, to respond to the pipes and to gather together at the sound of hands clapping; but this time fear had made them forget everything, and it was only with difficulty and by following in their tracks like hares that Daphnis and Chloe recovered them and then led them back to their folds. That one night only, they fell into a deep sleep and found in their weary labours a cure for their love sickness. But when the daylight returned, they experienced the same feelings once again: they were happy to see each other, they were sad to leave: they desired something, they did not know what they desired. This only they knew, that the kiss had destroyed him and the bath had destroyed her.

  The season also fired up their passions, since spring was already over, and summer was beginning. Everything was in bloom: trees were teeming with fruit, fields were filled with corn; the cries of the cicadas were mellifluous, the smell of the ripe fruit was sweet, the bleating of flocks was pleasant. It was easy to imagine that the rivers were singing as they flowed gently, that the breezes were piping as they blew in the pine trees, that the apples dropped to the ground because they were under the effects of love, and that the sun was disrobing all the people in the country because it was in love with beauty. Daphnis felt hot because of all these influences, and used to dip into the rivers. He washed himself, and hunted down the fish that circled around in the waters, and he often also drank the water to put out the heat burning inside of him. As for Chloe, after milking the ewes and many of the goats, she worked for a long time curdling the milk: the flies were terrible at harassing and stinging her when they were not chased away. Then she washed off her face, crowned herself with pine twigs, girdled herself with fawnskin, and filling a pail with milk and wine, made a drink for Daphnis and herself to share together.

  When it was midday, their eyes caught sight of each other, and they were captivated. Chloe, seeing him naked, fell completely for his beauty, and felt herself melting away, unable to find fault with any part of him; and Daphnis, seeing her in fawnskin and pine crown, as she held out the pail, thought that he was looking at a Nymph from the cave. He took the pine off her head, and crowned himself, after first kissing the crown; and when he was naked and washing himself, she kissed his clothes and put them on herself. They tossed apples at each other sometimes, and combed each other’s hair, their tresses streaming down: she compared his hai
r to myrtle because it was black, and he compared her face to an apple because it was white and red. He would teach her to play the pipes, and as she would begin to blow, he used to snatch away the pipes, and run over the reeds with his own lips. He appeared to be instructing her whenever she would make a mistake, but really he was using the pipes as a ruse to kiss Chloe.

  As he played the pipes in the midday sun and as the flocks were lying in the shade, Chloe quietly slipped into a sleep, and Daphnis noticed this. Putting down his pipes, he looked at her, all of her, without satiety, without any shame. As he looked at her, he said softly: ‘How beautiful her eyes are when she sleeps, how sweet her mouth is when she breathes! Neither apples nor pears compare to them. But I’m afraid to kiss her: kissing her stings my heart, and, like new honey, drives me mad. And I’m afraid that if I kiss her, I’ll wake her up. Oh, these chattering cicadas: their loud cries will not let her sleep! The goats also are fighting and striking each other with their horns. Oh, those wolves: they are bigger cowards than foxes if they won’t snatch them away!’

  While he was lost in these thoughts, a cicada, running away from a swallow that wanted to catch it, fell down the front of Chloe’s clothes. The swallow followed closely, and was unable to capture it, but coming near Chloe in its pursuit, the swallow grazed her cheeks with its wings. She let out a huge yell, not knowing what had happened, and woke up with a start. When she saw the swallow still fluttering nearby, and Daphnis laughing at her fright, she put aside her fear, and rubbed her sleepy eyes. Then the cicada chirped out of her cleavage like a suppliant giving thanks for protection, and Chloe let out another loud shriek. Daphnis laughed and, seizing the opportunity, set his hands down between her breasts, and took out the dear cicada; and it still did not go silent even though it was in his hand. She was pleased, seeing this; she took up the cicada, gave it a kiss, and then again put it back chirping into her cleavage.

  One day, a wood pigeon singing a country song in the forest was entertaining them. When Chloe wanted to know what it was saying, Daphnis taught her by reciting this well-known tale: ‘There was a young woman, young woman, who was as beautiful as you, and who pastured many cattle in the wood, as you do. She was also fond of singing, and the cattle delighted in her music, and she tended them without sticks and goads: sitting under pine and crowning herself in pine, she sang about Pan and the Nymph Pine, and the cows lingered to hear her voice. A boy grazing his cattle nearby, a good-looking fellow and no less fond of singing than the young woman, entered into a musical competition with her. He responded to her song with a stronger voice, like a man’s, but a sweet sound, like a boy’s; charming eight of her best cattle into his own herd, he lured them away. The young girl was grieved by the damage to her herd and by the defeat of her song, and she prayed to the gods that she might become a bird before she arrived home. The gods were persuaded, and made her into this very bird, a mountain dweller like the young girl, and as musical as she was. Even now, in her song, she divulges her misfortune and her search for the lost cattle.’

  These were the kinds of pleasures that the summer gave them. When the autumn was at its height, however, and when the grapes were ripening, pirates from Pyrrha (who were using a Carian ship so that they would look like barbarians) arrived in the fields. Disembarking with their swords and breastplates, they seized everything that they put their hands upon: fragrant wines, wheat in abundance and honey in the combs. They also drove away some cattle from Dorcon’s herd. They captured Daphnis, too, when he was wandering by the sea. (Chloe, being a girl, grazed Dryas’ sheep later in the day because she was afraid of the arrogant shepherds.) Seeing a young man who was tall and handsome and a better value than their rustic loot, they no longer wasted time and effort on goats and other fields, but led him down to the ship crying and not knowing what to do and calling out loudly for Chloe. After cutting loose the cable and putting in their oars, they sailed into the sea, just as Chloe drove down her flock, bringing new pipes with her as a gift for Daphnis. Seeing the goats in a state of confusion and hearing Daphnis calling for her in a louder and louder voice, she forgot the sheep, threw aside the pipes and ran off to Dorcon to ask for help.

  But he lay there, knocked down by strong beatings from the pirates; he could scarcely breathe, and was losing a lot of blood. Seeing Chloe revived a little of the flame of his earlier love. ‘I shall die soon, Chloe,’ he said. ‘Those unholy pirates cut me down like one of the cows when I was fighting for the cattle. But you, I say, must keep Daphnis safe, avenge me and kill them. I taught the cows to follow the sound of my pipes and to respond to my song whenever they would stray far away. Go, take these pipes, and blow on them that song I once taught Daphnis and which Daphnis taught you. Leave the rest to the pipes and the cows over there. I’m giving you the very pipes with which I entered into many contests and defeated cowherds and goatherds. But you, in return for this, while I’m still alive, kiss me, Chloe, and mourn for me when I die. And if you should see another grazing the cows, then remember me.’

  These were Dorcon’s last words. He kissed his last kiss, and with this kiss and with these words, his life slipped out from him. Chloe took up the pipes, placed them on her lips and played them as loudly as she could. The cows heard her and recognized the song, and, in one motion, they bellowed and leaped into the sea. Since the violent leaping was on one side of the ship, and since the cows’ fall caused the sea to hollow out on that side, the ship overturned and was destroyed by the enveloping waves. They all fell out, but they didn’t all have the same chance of survival: the pirates had their swords hanging beside them, and had put on breastplates covered with scales, and had worn greaves above their ankles; Daphnis was barefoot, because he had been grazing his flock in the plain, and half-naked, because it was still the season of scorching heat. So, the pirates swam for a short time, and were pulled down into the watery depths by their weapons. Daphnis easily took off his clothes, but worked hard at swimming, since he had gone swimming only in rivers before; but in a while, he learned from necessity what had to be done, and forced his way into the middle of the cows. Taking in his two hands two horns of two cows, he was carried along in the middle, without pain or effort, as if driving a wagon. In fact, cows can swim like no man, and they are slower only than waterbirds and, of course, fish. A cow, when swimming, will not drown, unless its hooves fall away from being drenched through. The proof of this observation is that to this day many places by the sea are called Ox-ford.

  Daphnis was saved in this way, escaping beyond all hope from two dangers, piracy and shipwreck. Coming out and discovering Chloe on land, laughing and crying at the same time, he fell into her arms and asked what she intended by playing the pipes. She told him everything: her running to Dorcon, the training given to the cows, how she was asked to play the pipes, and that Dorcon was dead. Only their kiss she didn’t mention, out of embarrassment. They decided to honour their benefactor, and going with his family and friends, they buried the unfortunate Dorcon. They piled on heaps of earth, planted many pleasant plants and hung up the first fruits of their labour for him. They also poured libations of milk, and pressed down the grapes, and broke many pipes over his grave. A piteous bellowing was heard from the cows, and some were seen running confusedly while they bellowed: these things were believed by the shepherds and goatherds to be the cows lamenting for the deceased cowherd.

  After Dorcon’s funeral, Chloe washed Daphnis; for the bath, she took him to the Nymphs, and led him into the cave. She herself then, for the first time as he looked on, washed her own body, which was white and pure in its beauty and hardly needed a bath to make it more beautiful. Gathering together the flowers that were in season, they placed garlands on the statues and hung up Dorcon’s pipes from the rock as a dedication. After this, they went and looked for the goats and the sheep. They were all lying down there, neither grazing nor bleating, but, I think, longing for the presence of the absent Daphnis and Chloe. When they saw the animals and cried out their old cries and played their
pipes, the sheep stood up and started grazing, and the goats snorted and pranced about, as if they were happy at the safe return of their familiar goatherd. Yet Daphnis could not bring himself to be happy now that he had seen Chloe naked and her once-hidden beauty finally revealed. His heart was in such pain that he felt it was being consumed by poisons. He was breathing heavily, as if someone were pursuing him, and sometimes his breath would fail him, as if it were all spent in the earlier attack. The bath seemed to him to be more frightening than the sea. He felt that his soul had remained among the pirates – he was young and from the country and still ignorant of Love’s piracies.

  Book 2

  The autumn was now at its midpoint, the harvest was fast approaching and everyone was in the fields at work, readying the presses, cleaning out jars and weaving wicker baskets. Others were preparing their short hooks to cut the clusters, readying the stones to crush the ripest grapes and pounding dried twigs, so that the new wine might be drawn off at night before first light. Daphnis and Chloe forgot their goats and sheep and gave the others a helping hand. He carried the grapes in his baskets, threw them into the press and trod on them, and drew off the wine into jars, while she prepared the food for the pickers, brought the older wine for them to drink and picked the grapes off the lower vines. In Lesbos all the vine is low-lying, not the kind that shoots up high, and it is not a tree vine, but the branches extend downward close to the ground and trail like ivy; even a child whose hands are just out of its swaddling clothes can reach the clusters.