Delphi Complete Works of Longus

by Longus

  “Oh that it were as warm as the fire which burns my heart!”

  “You are in jest; you are deceiving me, Daphnis.”

  “No! I swear it by the goats, whom I invoked at your bidding.”

  Whilst Chloe was replying, like an echo, to what Daphnis said, Nape called them, and they ran into the house with even a larger number of birds than Daphnis had caught the day before. After first pouring from the goblet a libation to Bacchus, they sat down to their banquet with chaplets of ivy on their heads. They feasted and then sang the praises of the God; and when it was time for Daphnis to depart, Dryas and his wife filled his bag with meat and bread, and insisted upon his carrying the wood-pigeons and thrushes home to Lamon and Myrtale; for, as they said, they would be able to catch as many as they pleased for their own use as long as the winter lasted and there were berries left on the ivy. At length Daphnis bade them farewell, and gave each of them a kiss; saluting Chloe last of all, that her kiss might remain pure and unalloyed upon his lips.

  After this he frequently contrived pretences for renewing his visits to Dryas’s abode; so that the winter did not pass without some taste of the sweets of love.

  As the spring drew nigh the snow melted, the earth displayed itself, and the grass began to grow. Then the shepherds and herdsmen again led their flocks to pasture, and Daphnis and Chloe were earlier than all others, for they themselves were guided by the mightiest of shepherds, Love. The first place to which they hastened was the Grotto of the Nymphs: next they ran to the pine beneath which stood the statue of Pan, and then to the oak under which they had so often sat, watching their feeding flocks and kissing and embracing. So that they might crown the statues of the deities they sought for flowers: these were but just beginning to bud under the influence of the Zephyrs and the warmth of the sun; however they found the violet, the narcissus, and the pimpernel, indeed all the first flowers of the year; and with these they crowned the statues, pouring out libations of new milk, which they drew from the ewes and the she-goats. These rites performed, they tuned their pastoral pipes, as if challenging the nightingales to renew their song: and soon the nightingales answered them from the thickets, at first faintly warbling their lament (?) for Itys and gradually perfecting their strains which they recalled but slowly after so long a silence.

  Then too the sheep began to bleat, while the lambs frisked on the sward, or stooped under their mothers to suck. And the he-goats contended for their mates, jealously guarding the one they selected from the approaches of any rival.

  The sight of all these things would have kindled love even among the aged and greatly did it inflame this young couple, already warmed by desire and longing for some other remedy, to love beyond a kiss and an embrace. Especially was this the case with Daphnis, who, having passed the winter at home in inactivity, was more impetuous and pressing than ever in the caresses he bestowed on Chloe. He besought her to grant his desires, proposing that they should follow the one course, indicated by Philetas, that remained untried. But Chloe in all simplicity demurred, asking him, moreover, what there could possibly be beyond kisses and embraces; and he, unacquainted with the mysteries of love, shed tears at his own ignorance. (Check the Greek!!!)

  Now, in the neighbourhood, there lived an old man named Chromis who farmed some land of his own. His wife, who was young and good-looking, came from the city and was superior in manners to the rustics of these parts. She was called Lycaenium. Every day she saw Daphnis drive his goats past her house, taking them to pasture in the morning, and home again at night; and being desirous of enticing him to love, she began to watch him and at last surprised him when he was alone. She then gave him a pipe, a honeycomb, and a scrip of deer skin, but she dared not speak her mind, for she suspected that he loved Chloe since he was always in the latter’s company. Still she knew nothing for certain, having as yet only seen them exchanging smiles and signs. One morning soon afterwards, pretending to Chromis that she was going to visit a neighbour who had been brought to bed, she followed the young couple to the fields; and hiding herself in a thicket, that she herself might not be seen, she saw and heard all that passed between them, especially noting why it was that Daphnis wept. Being herself in love with him, she forthwith resolved to enlighten his ignorance, and with that object contrived the following ruse.

  On the morrow, after again pretending that she was going to visit her neighbour, she repaired to the oak beneath which Daphnis and Chloe were seated, and feigning great alarm, exclaimed:

  “Assist me, I entreat you, Daphnis. An eagle has carried off the finest of my twenty geese, but his spoil being too heavy for him he has been unable to carry it to yonder high rock, where he has his nest, and has alighted with it in the wood, in the valley. I am afraid to go alone, so in the name of Pan and the Nymphs, Daphnis, come there with me and help me to recover my goose. I am unwilling to lose it; and besides, you may perchance kill the eagle, in which case your kids and lambs would no longer be in danger. Meanwhile Chloe can guard both flocks: your goats know her as well as they know you, for you are always together.”

  Daphnis, who had no suspicion of the truth, at once arose and followed Lycaenium, who led him far away from Chloe, into the depths of the wood, near a spring. Then, after telling him to sit down beside her, she said:

  “You are in love, Daphnis. The Nymphs informed me of it last night. They came to me whilst I was asleep, told me of the tears that you shed yesterday, and commanded me to enlighten you as to the mysteries of love. If therefore you desire to be freed from your pains, you must do as I bid you and out of regard for the Nymphs I myself will obey their command.”

  So great was the delight of Daphnis that, like the simple-minded shepherd he was, he threw himself at Lycaenium’s feet, entreating her to reveal the secret and promising to give her in return a kid, some cheeses, new milk, and even a she-goat. The liberality of his offers showed her that he was yet more simple than she had imagined. As soon as she had tutored him, he would have hastened back to Chloe to impart to her the knowledge he had gained, but Lycaenium detained him and warned him of the danger that might result to Chloe. Then she proceeded to another part of the wood as if she were still in search of the lost goose, and Daphnis, reflecting on what she had told him, resolved that he would but kiss and embrace Chloe in his wonted manner.

  Upon his return he found her weaving a chaplet of violets; and after pretending that he had delivered Lycaenium’s goose from the talons of the eagle, he kissed and embraced her. In that at least, thought he, there could be no harm. In return, Chloe placed the chaplet she had made upon his brow and kissed his hair, which to her mind had a sweeter perfume even than the violets. Then she gave him some dry figs and bread from her scrip, and whilst he was partaking of this fare she oft-time snatched a morsel from his mouth and ate it, as though she had been a nestling taking food from its mother’s beak.

  Whilst they were at their meal, more intent on kissing than on eating, they descried a fishing boat proceeding along the coast. Not a breath of air was stirring: the calm was perfect, and plying their oars, the crew rowed vigorously towards the city whither they were carrying some newly caught fish for a wealthy citizen. They dipped and raised their oars in rhythmical fashion; and, as is the wont of seamen, to beguile their toil one of them sang a song, in the chorus of which the others joined at intervals. While they were in the open sea, the sound of their voices was lost in space, but when after rounding a headland they reached a hollow crescent-shaped bay, the splashing of their oars was heard distinctly and their song resounded along the shore, where a deep valley skirting the water received each note that was uttered, and like an instrument of music repeated it with perfect imitation. The splashing of the oars and the voices of the sailors could be distinguished separately, and delightful sounds they were. According to the varying distance of the boat from the valley, there was a shorter or longer interval between the sound of the singing on board and the echo which repeated it.

  Daphnis, who understood the nat
ure of the echo, turned his attention solely to the sea, gazing delightedly at the boat as it glided past, quicker than a bird could fly. At the same time he endeavoured to fix the strains in his memory that he might play them on his pipe. Chloe, who, till then, had never heard an echo, looked first at the sea and listened to the boatmen as they sang, and then turned round to the woods in expectation of seeing the other men who, as she imagined, were responding to the chorus.

  At length the rowers passed out of sight, and all became silent: not a sound was to be heard from the sea or from the valley: whereupon Chloe inquired of Daphnis whether there was another sea behind the hill, and another boat, whose crew sang the same strain, and ceased singing at the same time. Daphnis gave her a sweet smile and a yet sweeter kiss, and, putting the garland of violets on her head, said that he would tell her the story of the Nymph Echo, if she would promise to give him ten kisses for his pains.

  “There are various classes of Nymphs, my girl,” he said, “the Melians, who dwell among the ash-groves, the Dryads, who preside over the oaks, and the Eloean Nymphs, who are guardians of the lakes. Echo was the daughter of one of these Nymphs: as her mother was beautiful so was she, but as her father was a mortal, she was the same. She was brought up by the Nymphs, and the Muses taught her to play upon the pipe, the flute, the lyre, and the harp, in fact, to excel in every kind of music. When she reached the flower of her youth, she danced with the Nymphs, and sang with the Muses. Desirous of remaining a maiden she shunned the sight of all males, whether they were men or gods. This roused the indignation of Pan, who, jealous of her skill in music, and irritated by her refusal of his addresses, inspired the shepherds and herdsmen with such madness, that they rushed upon her like so many hounds or wolves, tore her in pieces, and scattered her mangled limbs, which were yet replete with harmony, in every direction. Then Earth, who was desirous of gaining favour with the Nymphs, collected Echo’s remains, preserving her gift of song and, by the will of the Muses, imitating all sounds as did the maiden while she was alive: both the sounds of instruments and animals, the voices of gods and men, and even that of Pan. He, while he is playing on his pipe, and hears his notes repeated, springs in amazement from his seat, and rushes over the mountains, not in pursuit of the maiden, for he does not know that it is her voice responding to him, but to find out who is his hidden pupil.”

  When Daphnis had finished his tale, Chloe kissed him, not ten times as he had asked her, but a thousand, and Echo repeated every kiss, as if to testify that Daphnis had not included in his story of her anything that was contrary to truth.

  The heat of the weather increased daily as the spring was departing and the summer approaching. The new delights that this season brings returned once more. Daphnis swam in the rivers, and Chloe bathed in the springs; he piped, vying with the zephyrs that breathed through the pines, whilst she sang, emulating the nightingales with her melody: they amused themselves in chasing and catching noisy locusts and chattering grasshoppers, in gathering posies, and in shaking fruit from the trees, and eating it. At times also they would repose side by side under a goatskin. Daphnis now often prevented Chloe from displaying her charms, for he remembered what Lycaenium had told him, and feared lest he should be unable to restrain himself. She in her innocence was astonished; however, she made no remark.

  During the summer Chloe had many suitors, who came to Dryas and begged his daughter in marriage. Some brought presents to add weight to their suit, and some made great promises. Nape was elated and advised her husband to marry off Chloe immediately, and not to keep a girl of her age any longer at home, observing that some artful shepherd might entice her whilst she was tending her flocks, and that the best course was to secure a good match for her, and to keep the presents of her suitors for the infant son that had lately been born to them.

  Dryas sometimes felt inclined to follow this advice, for the gifts brought by each of Chloe’s suitors were far beyond what a mere shepherdess was entitled to expect; but on the other hand he reflected, that the maiden deserved a better husband than a mere rustic, and that, if ever her real parents were discovered, they might make Nape and himself rich for life.

  These considerations had such weight with him, that he declined to give a positive answer, and postponed the matter from time to time, in the meanwhile receiving many presents of considerable value. Chloe, as soon as she knew of what was passing, was overcome with grief; but she concealed the cause from Daphnis lest she might give him pain. Daphnis, however, was so eager in his inquiries as to the cause of her sadness, that she realised he would be more miserable if the truth were concealed from him than if he knew it; accordingly she acquainted him with every circumstance — with the applications of numerous wealthy suitors, with Nape’s arguments in favour of immediate matrimony, and with the hesitation of Dryas, who had refused to give his consent until the next vintage season should begin.

  On hearing this, Daphnis, almost beside himself, sat down and wept bitterly, exclaiming that he should die if he were deprived of Chloe as a companion in the pastures; and that her sheep also would die of grief at the loss of such a mistress. After this explosion of sorrow, he became more collected, and resolved to take courage. It occurred to him that he might endeavour to persuade Chloe’s father to receive him as her suitor, flattering himself that he was far superior to her other admirers. But there was one obstacle which gave him no little uneasiness: — Lamon, his own father, was not rich; and on remembering this, his chances of success seemed very slender. Nevertheless he determined to put in his claim, and Chloe approved of his doing so.

  Daphnis did not dare to declare his intentions straightway to Lamon, but with Myrtale he was bolder, and he told her of his love and of his desire to marry Chloe. At night time Myrtale spoke of the matter to her husband; but Lamon highly disapproved of the plan, and chided his wife for thinking of marrying, to a common shepherd’s daughter, a youth who, by the tokens found with him, seemed destined to a much higher fortune, and who, should he ever find his true relatives, would not only procure the freedom of his foster-father and mother, but also make them master and mistress of a larger estate than even that on which they now worked as servants.

  Myrtale, who was afraid to tell Daphnis how averse her husband was to the marriage, lest the youth should be driven in despair to attempt his life, gave him a very different reason for Lamon’s opposition:

  “We are poor, my son, and we require a girl who will bring a large portion with her: they on their side are rich, and expect rich suitors. However, go and persuade Chloe to induce her father not to look for a large settlement, but to let you have her as a wife. The girl, I am convinced, loves you dearly, and would certainly prefer a handsome man like yourself, however poor, to an ugly ape, however rich.”

  Myrtale was convinced in her own mind that as Dryas had to deal with so many rich suitors, he would never consent to Chloe marrying Daphnis”; and considered that she had devised the best expedient possible for disposing of the subject of the marriage.

  Daphnis could not find fault with her advice, but being quite destitute of the means which might insure success to his suit, he burst into tears, as most poor lovers usually do; and then he again invoked the assistance of the Nymphs.

  Whilst he was asleep that night, three of them appeared to him in the same dress and form as they had appeared before, and the eldest of them addressed him in these words:

  “Chloe’s marriage is in the care of another deity: as for yourself, however, we will furnish you with means to soften Dryas, and gain his consent. The boat belonging to the young men of Methymna, whose withe of osiers was eaten by your goats, was carried far out to sea by the violence of the gale, but at night the wind shifted and blew towards the shore, when the boat was driven against some sharp rocks and wrecked, everything on board it being lost. A purse of three thousand drachmas, however, was cast ashore, and now lies covered with seaweed near a dead dolphin, the stench of which is so offensive, that all who pass that way hasten by it as
fast as they can. Go, take this money, and offer it to Dryas. It will suffice for the present that you should not appear absolutely poor; the time will come when you will be very rich.” Having thus instructed Daphnis, the Nymphs disappeared and with them the darkness of the night.

  The day broke, and Daphnis leaped from his bed with delight, and drove his goats to pasture with boisterous eagerness. After kissing Chloe, and paying his adorations in the grotto, he went down to the sea, pretending that he intended to bathe, and walked along the sands close to the surf looking for the money. The search required little labour, for the putrid dolphin exhaled a strong smell which served to guide him on his way. He approached it, and upon removing some sea-weed he found the purse full of silver, and put it in his scrip. But before leaving the spot he invoked blessings on the Nymphs and on the ocean; for albeit a shepherd, he now thought the sea more delightful than the land, since it contributed to promote his marriage with Chloe.

  Having obtained possession of the three thousand drachmas, he thought himself not merely richer than his neighbours, but the richest man upon earth, and immediately hastened to Chloe, related his dream to her, showed her the purse, and desired her to tend the herds till he came back. Then with a quick pace and stout heart he hurried away to Dryas, whom he found with Nape beating out corn on the threshing floor. He at once boldly addressed them upon the subject of the marriage.

  “I am come to ask Chloe of you as a wife,” he said, “I can play well on the pipe, I can prune vines, I can dig, I can plant, I can plough, and I can winnow. Chloe can bear witness to my skill as a herdsman; fifty she-goats were given to my charge, and their number is now fully doubled. We used formerly to send our she-goats to a neighbour’s males; but I have now reared several large handsome he-goats of our own. I am young; and, as I have been your neighbour, you know my character. A goat, moreover, suckled me, as an ewe suckled Chloe. On these grounds, alone, I think I may claim a preference to other suitors, and none of their gifts shall exceed mine. They may offer goats and sheep, or a yoke of wretched oxen, or corn that is even not fit food for fowls; but I will give you three thousand drachmas — only let no one know what I have offered — not even Lamon my father!” With these words Daphnis presented the money and threw his arms around Dryas’s neck.