by Longus
On hearing this last word Chloe could restrain herself no longer. Partly to acknowledge the pleasure which she felt on hearing herself thus praised, and partly because she had long desired to kiss Daphnis, she tripped to her feet, and, in a pretty, simple way, gave him the prize. Hers was truly an artless, unsophisticated kiss, and yet it was well calculated to inflame a stripling’s heart.
Dorcon, finding himself vanquished, fled into the woods to hide his shame and displeasure, and to devise some other means of succeeding in his love affairs. As for Daphnis it was as if he had been stung, not kissed, by Chloe. He became sad; he sighed and shivered, and his heart beat more quickly. He turned pale when he looked at Chloe, and then suddenly a flush suffused his face. For the first time he now admired the fairness of her hair, the softness of her eyes, and the freshness of her complexion, which was whiter even than the cream-cheese made with the milk of her ewes. It might have been supposed that he was now for the first time endowed with sight, and that he had formerly been blind. From that day forth he merely tasted his food, and only just moistened his lips with drink. He, who had been merrier even than the grasshoppers, became thoughtful and silent; he who had been accustomed to skip about like his kids, remained seated and motionless. His herd was forgotten; his pipe lay uncared for on the ground; his head was bowed like a flower that droops over its stalk; he was consumed by inward fire, parched like the grass in the hot weather; he knew joy no longer, and no more gaily prattled, unless, indeed, he were speaking to Chloe or about her.
Sometimes when he was alone, he walked along, saying to himself: “Ah! What strange effects I feel from that kiss which Chloe gave me! Her lips are more tender than rose-buds, her mouth is sweeter than the honeycomb, and yet that kiss has left a sting sharper than the sting of a bee! I have frequently kissed my kids; I have kissed her newly-dropped lambs, and the little calf which Dorcon gave her, but that kiss of Chloe’s is something new and wonderful! My breath is gone — my heart pants — my spirit sinks within me and dies away; and yet I long to kiss her in return. O fatal victory! O strange disease, which I know not how to name! Could Chloe have tasted some poison before she kissed me? If so, how is it that she survives? How sweetly the swallows twitter, whilst my pipe is mute! How gaily the kids skip and play, whilst I sink into listless repose! How beautifully the flowers shoot forth, but I am not weaving garlands! The violets and the lilies of the valley are blooming, but Daphnis droops and fades away. Dorcon will soon appear more comely than myself!”
Such were the sensations of poor Daphnis, and thus he vented his feelings; like one within whose heart the sparks of love have for the first time been kindled.
In the meantime Dorcon, the herdsman, who also entertained a passion for Chloe, was watching for an opportunity to address Dryas on the subject; he knew him already, having met him when he was tending cattle in the fields; and, now, finding him one day employed in staking a vine, he ventured to approach him, taking with him some fine cheeses made from cow’s milk. First of all he begged Dryas to accept the cheeses as a present; then he reverted to their old acquaintance as fellow-herdsmen, and finally he informed him of the affection which he felt for his daughter, Chloe. He promised that, if he were so happy as to obtain her as his wife, he was prepared to offer him the handsomest gifts which a herdsman could bestow — a yoke of oxen fit for the plough, four hives of bees, fifty young apple trees for planting, the hide of an ox already tanned as well as a weaned calf annually.
Dryas was almost tempted by this display of friendship and these splendid promises to give his assent to the marriage; but on the other hand he reflected that the girl seemed destined for a higher connection, and he feared that he might find himself in an irremediable difficulty should the maiden ever be identified and her parents learn that he had married her to a man of such low condition, merely for the sake of some presents. For this reason he refused his assent and declined all the gifts, at the same time entreating Dorcon not to be offended.
Dorcon, being thus disappointed for the second time and having given his cheeses away to no purpose, conceived a plan of carrying off Chloe by force, whenever he might find her alone; and having observed that she and Daphnis alternately conducted the flocks to drink, he contrived a scheme which would naturally strike the invention of a herdsman. One of his bulls, fighting in defence of the herd, had killed a large wolf with his horns; and Dorcon threw this wolf’s skin over his back, so that it completely covered him, and adjusted it in such a manner that the skins of the fore legs concealed his arms and hands, while those of the hind legs hung down to his very heels. The animal’s head with its widely-extended jaws cased his own as completely as a soldier’s helmet.
Having thus “be-wolfed” himself as well as he was able he repaired to the spring, where the sheep and goats usually drank as they returned from pasture. This spring was in a dell, and the furze, brambles, junipers and thistles around it were so thick, that a real wolf might easily have chosen the spot as a lurking place. Here Dorcon concealed himself and anxiously waited for the arrival of the thirsty flocks; hoping that Chloe would be so startled and terrified by his wolfish appearance that he would be able to seize her and effect his purpose.
He had not remained there long when Chloe came to the spring with the sheep and the goats, leaving Daphnis engaged in cutting some green leaves as fodder for the kids in the evening. The dogs (the guardians of the sheep and goats) accompanied Chloe, and scenting about in their usual manner they discovered Dorcon who was in the act of rising up to seize their mistress. Taking him for a wolf they set up a full cry, rushed upon him and began to bite before he could recover from his astonishment. The wolf-skin for a time protected him from their teeth, and the shame of a discovery operated so strongly that he remained in the thicket without calling out; but when Chloe, alarmed on seeing a wolf’s head among the brambles, summoned Daphnis to her aid, and when the skin was torn off by the herdsman’s assailants, who began to bite Dorcon’s person, he shrieked aloud, entreating the assistance of the damsel and of Daphnis, who had now arrived at the spot. The dogs were easily appeased by the well-known voices of their master and mistress, who conveyed the lacerated Dorcon to the spring, where they washed the bites which they discovered on his legs and shoulders. Then chewing some elm-leaves they spread them as a salve on the wounds. Innocent themselves, and totally ignorant of the desperate enterprizes of lovers they imagined that Dorcon’s disguise was a mere piece of rustic sport, and, far from being angry with him, they led him by the hand a part of the way home and, after condoling with him, bade him farewell.
Dorcon, having thus been rescued from the jaws of the dogs and not, as the old adage has it, from those of the wolf, went home to nurse himself; while Daphnis and Chloe were occupied until nightfall in the difficult task of collecting their sheep and goats, which being terrified by the sight of the wolfskin and the barking of the dogs had dispersed in different directions. Some had sprung upon the highest rocks, and some had fled down to the shore. They had, indeed, been instructed to obey their keeper’s call; in any alarm the pipe usually sufficed to soothe them, and if they became scattered a clapping of the hands would collect them; but terror had now made them forget their former discipline, so that Daphnis and Chloe were compelled to track them as if they had been hares; and it was only after great difficulty and trouble that they brought them back to the pens. Then they themselves retired to rest, and this was the first night, for a long time past, that they slept soundly: they found that fatigue was the best remedy for the restlessness of love. But with the morning their usual sensations returned. When they met, they rejoiced; when they parted, they felt sad. They pined with grief and felt a longing which they could not describe. They knew this only — one of them, that he had lost his peace of mind by a kiss, — the other that her suffering dated from a bath. The season too was the season of love.
The spring was now over; the summer had begun and all things were in the height of beauty. The trees were covered with fruit; th
e fields with corn. Charming was the chirp of the grasshoppers, delightful was the bleating of the flocks, luxuriant the aspect of the fields. It was pleasant to breathe the balmy air; you might have fancied that the rivers were asleep so slowly and silently did they flow along, while the breezes sighed and piped as they breathed through the branches of the pines. The apples fell to the ground as if eager to be gathered by the passing lover. Every superfluous garment was thrown aside, and the sun beamed forth as if desirous of gazing at the charms which were exposed to his rays. Daphnis, finding the warmth intolerable, plunged into the rivers; sometimes he merely bathed, sometimes he amused himself with trying to catch the fish which slipped between his fingers and glided through the water, and sometimes he drank of the stream as if he wished to extinguish the flame which he felt within him. Chloe, when she had milked her ewes, and sometimes Daphnis’ goats as well, had great difficulty in making the milk curdle, for the gnats were very troublesome and if she flapped them away they stung her. However, after her work was done she washed her face, crowned herself with a garland of pine-leaves, put the fawn-skin about her waist and filled a bowl with wine and milk as a beverage for herself and Daphnis.
When noontide drew nigh they felt more ardently in love than ever; Chloe pined and languished at the sight of Daphnis’s comeliness which seemed to be without flaw or blemish, and when Daphnis beheld Chloe in her fawn-skin and with the garland of pine-leaves about her brow holding out the bowl to him, he fancied that he beheld one of the Nymphs of the grotto, and drawing near he took the garland from her head and placed it on his own. Then she, while he was bathing, took his dress and donned it after kissing it lovingly. Sometimes they sportively began to pelt each other with apples, and on other occasions they amused themselves with adorning each other’s hair, which they braided in various forms. Chloe compared the black hair of Daphnis to myrtle-berries; while he likened her cheeks to apples where the white is suffused with red. At other times he taught her to play on the pipe, and as she began to breathe into it he snatched it from her, pressed the reeds to his lips and made them sound, under pretence of teaching her and rectifying her errors; but in reality his purpose was to kiss those parts of the instrument which her lips had touched, and thus the pipe became a conductor for his kisses.
While he was thus amusing her in the noon-day heat, with their flocks around them reposing in the shade, Chloe imperceptibly fell asleep. Daphnis, perceiving it, laid down his pipe and while he gazed on her, charms he thus sighed to himself: “What eyes are those which are now closed in sleep! What a mouth is that which breathes so sweetly! Neither apples nor wild-flowers have so sweet a scent! Ah! But I fear to kiss it! Her lips sting me to the heart, and like new honey drive me mad! Besides, a kiss would awaken her! O chattering grasshoppers, if you chirp so loudly you will disturb my Chloe! Those vexatious goats are fighting noisily with their horns: surely the wolves are grown more timid than foxes that they do not come and seize them!”
At this moment his soliloquy was interrupted by a grasshopper, which, in springing from a swallow that pursued it, fell into Chloe’s bosom. As the swallow hovered over her and brushed her cheek with its fluttering wings, the damsel started and screamed; but, seeing the swallow still fluttering near her and Daphnis laughing at her alarm, her fear vanished and she rubbed her eyes which were yet heavy with sleep. The grasshopper chirped from her bosom, as if in gratitude for its deliverance, and Chloe on hearing it screamed again; whereupon Daphnis laughed, and took the little chatterer from its hiding-place. It still kept chirping in his hand. Chloe was pleased at seeing the innocent cause of her alarm, and having kissed it, she put it in her bosom again, where it resumed its song.
On another occasion they delighted themselves with listening to a ring-dove cooing in the neighbouring wood, and upon Chloe inquiring what the bird meant by its note, Daphnis told her the well-known fable which is related to all who ask that question.
“Long ago, my dear,” he said, “there was a maid who, like yourself, was beautiful and in the flower of youth. She tended cattle and she sang so sweetly that the herds were delighted with her song, and she needed neither the crook nor the goad to manage them; they obeyed her voice, and gazed at and listened to the maid as she sat under the shade of a pine tree, crowned with a garland of its leaves and singing the loves of Pan and Pitys the Nymph. A youth, who pastured his herds at a little distance and who was handsome and fond of melody, vied with her in singing: as he was a man his voice was deeper, but as he was young it was also very sweet. He sang, and his song allured eight of her best cows to his own pastures. The maid was mortified at the loss of her cattle, and at being so much excelled in song; and, in her despair, she prayed the Gods to convert her into a bird before she reached her home. The Gods assented to her prayer, and transformed her into a bird: in which shape, as in her former one, she abides in the mountains, and delights in singing. Her notes bespeak her misfortune, for she is calling her wandering cows.”
Such were the delights which summer brought them, but when the autumn came, and the black grapes were covered with a thick bloom, some pirates of Tyre, who had put to sea in a Carian bark, so that they might not be taken for foreigners, approached the coast, and landed, armed with swords and bucklers. They plundered everything that fell in their way. They carried off fragrant wine, corn in great plenty, hives full of honey, and even some of Dorcon’s cattle. As they were scouring the country, here and there, it happened that they met Daphnis, who was musing in a melancholy mood and rambling by the sea-shore, quite alone. Chloe, for fear of some rude rustics, did not venture forth so early: it was only when the sun was already high that she drove Dryas’s flock to pasture. When the pirates saw the handsome youth, who, they knew, would be a prize of greater value than all the plunder they could find in the fields, they ceased to pursue the goats or to search for other spoil, and dragged him to their vessel, while he wept in despair, and called loudly on his Chloe.
They had put him on board, slipped their cable, and were rowing from the shore when Chloe came up, carrying in her hand a new pipe as a present for Daphnis. But when she saw the goats running about in confusion, and heard Daphnis calling out to her each moment in a louder voice, she quitted her sheep, threw down the pipe, and ran towards Dorcon’s pasturage, beseeching him to assist her. She found him lying on the ground: the pirates had hacked him with their swords and he could scarcely breathe, for the blood was flowing from him in streams. But at the sight of Chloe the memory of his love momentarily revived him, and he exclaimed: “I shall shortly be no more, my dear Chloe; I fought in defence of my cattle, and those wicked robbers, the pirates, have reduced me to this state. But you, Chloe, must save Daphnis and avenge me by destroying them. I have taught my cows to follow the sound of this pipe, and to obey its call, even if they be grazing at the greatest distance. Take this pipe; play upon it the notes in which I once instructed Daphnis, and in which Daphnis instructed you. Do this, and you will see the consequences. I give you this pipe with which I obtained the prize in contending with many a shepherd and many a herdsman; give me in return for this gift but one kiss, while yet I live. When I am dead, bewail me: and when you see another tending my flocks, remember Dorcon.”
As Dorcon ceased speaking, Chloe gave him a farewell kiss, and with this kiss upon his lips he resigned his breath. Then Chloe raised the pipe to her lips and blew with all her strength, and the cows hearing the pipe and recognising the notes began to low and all at once leaped into the sea. As they all plunged from the same side the vessel was overset, the waves closed over it and it sank. The crew and Daphnis fell into the sea and came to the surface again but they had not equal chances for preservation. The pirates had their swords at their sides and their bucklers slung behind them, while their greaves reached to the middle of their legs; whereas Daphnis, as usual when he tended his herd in the plains, had not even his sandals on, and, moreover, as the season was very warm, he was scarcely dressed. All of them swam for a little time, but the weight of th
eir equipments soon drew the pirates to the bottom, whereas Daphnis kept afloat having easily thrown off the few garments that encumbered him. Still as he had been accustomed to swim merely in rivers he only buoyed himself up with difficulty, and his distress was great when fortunately necessity taught him what course he should adopt; he darted forward between two of the cows, grasped a horn of each of them and was then carried along as securely and naturally as if he had been riding in his own wain. For cattle, it should be said, can swim much better and for a much longer time than men; and no living creatures surpass them in this respect unless it be the aquatic birds and the fish. And indeed no bullock nor cow would ever be in danger of drowning if it were not that the horn of their hoofs becomes softened by the water. To this fact many channels of the sea testify, such as that which even now is called the Bosphorus, meaning the oxen’s ford.
Thus was Daphnis delivered from two perils — from the pirates and from drowning, and in a manner beyond all expectation. When he reached the shore where he found Chloe smiling through her tears, he fell on her bosom and inquired what had led her to play those particular notes. She then related everything that had occurred, her running to Dorcon, his ordering her to pipe those notes which his cows were accustomed to obey, and finally his dying at her feet. She only forgot or purposely omitted to mention the kiss that she had given him.
