by Longus
So ended the war between the Methymneans and Mytileneans, the beginning and the end of which were entirely unexpected. For Daphnis and Chloe, however, the winter that arrived was more bitter than war. All of a sudden, the snow fell thick and fast and blocked the roads and locked the farmers in their homes. Roaring rivers rushed down, the ice froze hard and the trees seemed bowed low and at the point of breaking: all the land disappeared from sight except around a few fountains and streams. No one took his flock to pasture or himself went out of doors, but instead they lit a big fire at cock’s crow and used to spin flax or weave goats’ hair or devise snares for birds. At that time, they took care to supply the cows in the mangers with chaff to eat, the sheep and the goats in the folds with leaves, and the sties of the pigs with acorns.
Since everyone needed to stay at home, the other farmers and herdsmen took pleasure in the brief respite from work, and they enjoyed taking their meals in the morning and at night and sleeping long hours: to them the winter was sweeter than summer, autumn, and even spring. But Chloe and Daphnis remembered the pleasures they had had to leave behind, their kisses, their caresses and their meals together. They passed sleepless nights and grievous days waiting for the spring to restore them to life after death. They felt the pain anew each time they touched a sack from which they had eaten, or if they saw a pail from which they had drunk together, or saw the pipes (once a lover’s gift) flung aside without care. They prayed to the Nymphs and to Pan to release them from these evils and to show the sun again to them and their flocks, and at the same time they prayed that they might find some way to see each other once more. Chloe was completely at a loss and resourceless, since her foster mother was always with her, teaching her to card wool and turn the spindles, and was prattling on about marriage. Daphnis, on the other hand, had greater leisure, and he was cleverer than a girl, so he came up with the following plan to see Chloe.
In front of Dryas’ farm, next to the farmhouse itself, there grew two myrtles and some sprays of ivy. The myrtle trees stood near each other, while the ivy grew between them so that it extended its tendrils on either side like a vine and, by entwining its leaves with theirs, formed a sort of cave, while a cluster of berries hung down, as numerous and as swollen as grapes on vine branches. Flocks of birds hovered around the ivy in winter because of the lack of food outside, lots of blackbirds and thrushes, wood pigeons, starlings, and the other birds that feed on ivy berries. Saying that he intended to hunt these birds, Daphnis filled his bag with honeyed cakes and set out, and to lull suspicion took along birdlime and snares. Although the distance between the two places was no more than ten stades, the snow was still frozen and made the going hard. But love knows no bar, not fire nor water nor Scythian snow.
So, at a run, he came to the farm, and shaking off the snow from his legs, he set his snares, smeared long twigs with birdlime, and then sat down to wait for birds and for Chloe. The birds came in large numbers, and many were caught, enough to occupy him while he picked them up and killed and plucked them. Still, no one came out of the farm, not a man, woman or barnyard fowl. All of them were lingering by the fire, shut up indoors, and Daphnis was completely at a loss and thought that he had come at an ill-omened moment. He summoned up the courage to invent an excuse to push through the doors, and thought hard about the most convincing thing that he could say.
‘I’ve come to get a light to kindle our fire.’
‘But you have neighbours less than a stade away.’
‘I came to ask for bread.’
‘But your bag is stuffed with food.’
‘I want some wine.’
‘But just the other day you had the grape harvest.’
‘A wolf has chased me.’
‘But where are the wolf’s tracks?’
‘I came to hunt for birds.’
‘So why don’t you go home now that you’ve finished hunting?’
‘I want to see Chloe.’
‘But who would confess this to a girl’s father and mother?’
Coming up against obstacles everywhere he turned, he thought to himself, ‘Everything I say sounds suspicious. Silence would be better. I’ll see Chloe in the spring, since I’m not fated, it seems, to see her in the winter.’ He thought about his plight in this manner, and silently picking up his catch, he started to go away – when, as if Love took pity on him, something happened.
Dryas and his family were at the table. The meat was carved, the loaves of bread were set out, the wine was mixed. One of the sheepdogs, watching for the right moment, snatched a piece of meat and fled through the doors. Dryas was annoyed, especially since it was his portion, and took up a club and gave chase, following in its tracks, like a dog. He had chased it up to the ivy when he saw Daphnis throwing his catch over his shoulders, preparing to hurry away. He immediately forgot about his meat and dog, shouted out a loud hello to the boy, embraced and kissed him, took him by the hand, and led him back into the house. When the lovers saw each other, they almost collapsed to the ground, but finding the strength to stand upright, they greeted and kissed each other, which is what supported them and kept them from falling down.
Surpassing all his own expectations, then, Daphnis won both a kiss and Chloe too, and sitting down near the fire, he unloaded from his shoulders on to the table the wood pigeons and the thrushes, and he described how, vexed at being forced to stay indoors, he had gone hunting, and how, with snares and birdlime, he had caught the birds that were pecking at the myrtle berries and the ivy. They praised his energy and told him to eat what the dog had left behind. They told Chloe to pour him a drink, and she gladly served them, the others first and then Daphnis, and she pretended to be angry that although he had come so far he was ready to run away without seeing her. Nevertheless, she took a small sip before she handed the drink to him, and he, despite his thirst, took his time with it, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible.
Then the table was quickly cleared of bread and meat, and while they remained sitting there, they asked after Myrtale and Lamon and praised their good fortune in having such a son to care for them in their old age. Daphnis was pleased that Chloe should hear these praises, and when they pressed him to stay for the sacrifice of Dionysus the next day, he was so full of joy that he almost kneeled down to worship them instead of Dionysus. He immediately drew out many honeyed cakes from his bag, and the birds he had caught, and they prepared them for their evening meal, and another bowl of wine was set out, and a second fire was kindled, and since night was fast approaching, they put out a second meal, after which they told stories and sang songs, until they went to sleep, Chloe with her mother, Dryas with Daphnis. Chloe found little profit in this arrangement except that she would get to see Daphnis the following day, but Daphnis, on the other hand, enjoyed an empty pleasure: he thought it was delightful to sleep even with Chloe’s father, so he threw his arms around him and kissed him repeatedly, dreaming that he was doing all this to Chloe.
At daybreak, the cold was exceedingly sharp, and the north wind was freezing, the land dry, but they got up and sacrificed a yearling ram to Dionysus, and they lit a large fire and made the meal ready. While Nape baked the bread and Dryas boiled the ram, Daphnis and Chloe took advantage of the leisure time and went out of the farm to where the ivy grew, and they set the snares again, and smeared birdlime, and hunted a large number of birds. And they enjoyed their continual kissing, their sweet talk:
‘I came to see you, Chloe.’
‘I know, Daphnis.’
‘It’s for you that I’m killing these poor blackbirds.’
‘What can I do to show you that I –?’
‘Remember me.’
‘I do, I remember you by the Nymphs whom I swore by in the cave. We’ll go there again as soon as the snow melts.’
‘But there is so much of it, Chloe, I’m afraid that I’ll melt before the snow does.’
‘Courage, Daphnis, the sun is hot.’
‘I wish that it were as hot, Chloe, as the fire th
at burns my heart.’
‘You’re joking, now; you mock me.’
‘No, I’m not, by the goats you told me to swear by.’
In this way, Chloe answered Daphnis’ questions, like an echo. When Nape called them, they ran inside, bringing a bigger catch than they had the day before, and after offering the first of the wine to Dionysus, they crowned their heads with ivy and ate their meal. And when it was time, the family cried out ‘Iacchus!’ and ‘Evoe!’, and sent Daphnis on his way, filling his bag with bread and meat. They also gave him the wood pigeons and thrushes to take to Lamon and Myrtale, and said that they would catch more all through the winter as long as the ivy berries lasted. And then he left, kissing the others first and Chloe last, so that her kiss would remain pure and unsullied on his lips. He made many other visits, on various pretexts, so that for them the winter was not entirely loveless.
And when at last spring began to come in, the snow started to melt, the earth was laid bare, the grass was starting to grow and the shepherds led their flocks to pasture, but ahead of all the others were Daphnis and Chloe, the slaves of a greater shepherd. And at once they ran to the Nymphs and the cave, then to Pan and the pine, and then to the oak, under which they sat and grazed their flocks and kissed each other. Then they looked for flowers, since they desired to put garlands on the gods, but these were only just being encouraged to grow by the nourishing breath of the west wind and the warmth of the sun; still, they found violets and narcissus and pimpernel and the other first fruits of spring. They also obtained new milk from the she-goats and ewes, and placing garlands of flowers on the statues, they poured the milk as an offering to them. Then they made an offering of the music of their pipes, as though they were challenging the nightingales to sing, and they in turn warbled softly in the bushes, and little by little perfected their ‘Itys’, as if they were remembering the song after a long silence.
Here and there, the flocks of sheep were bleating, and the lambs were frisking, and they knelt under their mothers and sucked the teats. The rams chased the ewes that had not yet lambed: getting the females in position underneath, the males mounted them. The he-goats were, if anything, more passionate in chasing the she-goats and leaping on to them, and they also fought over the she-goats, each he-goat keeping his own females and guarding them against any secret adultery. Such a spectacle would have stirred vehement desires even in old men; as it is, Daphnis and Chloe were young and bursting with vigour and had been searching for love for a long time already, and they were set on fire by what they heard and close to collapse through what they saw, and they too, and especially Daphnis, were yearning for something more than kisses and embraces. He felt that he had been wasting his youth in the winter, languishing indolently at home, and at that moment he was passionate with his kisses, full of lust in his embraces, continually craving more, and bolder than ever.
He asked Chloe to give him everything he desired and that they both lie down naked together for a longer period than they used to before: this was the one thing left from Philetas’ instructions, to bring forth the only antidote for love. She asked what more there could be than kisses and embraces and lying down together, and what he had decided to do when they were lying down naked together. ‘What the rams do to the ewes,’ he said, ‘and the he-goats to the she-goats. Don’t you see how, after they’ve done the thing they do, the females don’t run away from the males any more and the males don’t have the labour of chasing the females? But they graze together in future as if they had together enjoyed the same pleasure. That thing they do must be something sweet, something that wipes out the bitterness of love.’ ‘But, Daphnis, do you not see the she-goats and the he-goats or the rams and the ewes, don’t you see that the males do it standing up and the females also take it standing up? The males leap on the females, the females carry them on their backs. But you’re asking that I should lie down and do all this with you, and while naked too? Those animals are much shaggier than I am when I’m fully clothed.’ Daphnis was persuaded by her; he lay down next to her for a long time, but he didn’t know how to do what he hotly desired, so he made her stand up and clung to her from behind in imitation of the he-goats. But now he was even more perplexed, and he sat down and cried because he was more foolish than rams in making love.
He had a neighbour, one Chromis by name, who farmed his own land, and was now past his prime. This Chromis had a wife, imported from the city, who was young and pretty and a little too chic for the country: her name was Lycaenion. Every day, she saw Daphnis driving his goats, in the morning to pasture and at night back home again, and she desired to entice him with gifts and take him as a lover. On one occasion, she ambushed him when he was alone and gave him as a gift a set of pipes and honey in the comb and a deerskin bag, but she hesitated to say anything because she saw that he was very attached to the girl and surmised that he was in love with Chloe. She had guessed that this was so earlier, because of the nodding and the laughter. But then she went out one morning pretending to Chromis that she was going to help a neighbour who was about to give birth. She followed Daphnis and Chloe closely from behind, and from behind some bushes where she would not be seen, she heard everything they said and saw whatever they did, and she took good notice of Daphnis’ tears. She felt sorry for them in their agony and thought that here was a double opportunity, to deliver them from their troubles and to satisfy her own desire. This was the plan she devised.
On the following day, again pretending that she was going to the woman who was about to give birth, she went openly to the oak tree where Daphnis and Chloe were sitting, and gave a choice imitation of a woman in distress. ‘Save me, Daphnis,’ she said. ‘I’m in trouble. I had twenty geese, and an eagle snatched the best one, then he couldn’t lift it up to his high rock over there because it was so heavy, and now the eagle has fallen down with it into this wood over here. In the name of the Nymphs and Pan over there, please come into the wood with me – I’m afraid to go alone – and save my goose. Don’t let the geese be without one of their number. Perhaps you’ll kill the eagle also, and he’ll no longer snatch so many of your lambs and kids. Chloe will look after your flock in the meantime; the goats must know her well; after all, she’s always with you when you take them to pasture.’
Not in the least suspicious about what was to come, Daphnis got up right away, picked up his staff and followed behind Lycaenion. She led him as far as possible from Chloe, and when they were in the thickest part of the wood, she told him to sit down near a stream, and said, ‘Daphnis, you’re in love with Chloe. I learned this from the Nymphs in a dream last night. They told me how you cried yesterday and they told me to save you by teaching you how to make love. Love is not kisses and embraces and what rams and he-goats do. There is leaping, but it is far sweeter than theirs, because it takes longer and gives a longer pleasure. If you would like to be freed from your troubles and experience the pleasures you are looking for, then come, give yourself to me as my student, I will teach you your lessons and oblige those Nymphs.’
Daphnis could no longer hold out, in his pleasure: since he was a rustic and a goatherd, a lover and a youth, he flung himself at her feet, and begged Lycaenion to teach him as quickly as possible the skill through which he could do what he wanted to Chloe. As if he were going to be taught something truly great and heaven-sent, he promised to give her a suckling kid and soft cheeses made from a goat’s first milk and the goat as well. Lycaenion found him to be a goatherd through and through, more than she had expected, and she began to teach Daphnis in the following way: she told him to sit down beside her, as he was, and to kiss her as often and as warmly as he usually did, and at the same time as he was kissing her, to embrace her and to lie down with her on the ground. When he had sat down and kissed her and lain down, she discovered that he was aroused and bursting with desire, and so she raised him up from where he was reclining on his side, placed herself underneath and skilfully guided him on the road that he had long sought. She did nothing exotic the
n, and for the rest, nature itself taught him what needed to be done.
When the lesson in love was complete, Daphnis, ever the shepherd, was eager to run to Chloe and immediately practise what he had learned, as if afraid that he would forget it if he delayed, but Lycaenion held him back, and said, ‘You still need to learn something, Daphnis. I happen to be a woman, and I haven’t suffered any hurt now, because, a long time ago, another man taught me this lesson and took my virginity as his payment. But when Chloe wrestles with you in this kind of wrestling match, she will cry out and weep and will lie there bleeding heavily. Don’t be afraid of the blood. When you have persuaded her to give herself to you, lead her to this place, where even if she shouts out, no one will hear her, and if she cries, no one will see her, and if she bleeds, she can wash in the spring. But remember that I made you a man before Chloe.’
After Lycaenion had tendered this advice, she went off to another part of the wood, as if she were still looking for her goose, but Daphnis reflected on what she had said and lost his earlier feelings of urgency, and he declined to trouble Chloe for more kisses and embraces, not wanting her to cry out against him as she would at an enemy, or weep as if she had been hurt, or bleed as if she were wounded. He had just learned about the blood and was frightened by it, since he thought that blood came only from wounds. Deciding to take just his usual pleasures with her, he went out of the wood and came to the place where she was sitting, weaving a little garland of violets. He told her a lie about snatching the goose from the eagle’s talons, and then holding her close, he kissed her just as he had kissed Lycaenion in their moments of pleasure. He allowed himself that much, because it was not dangerous. She fitted the garland on his head, kissed his hair, which she said was better than violets, and from her bag she took out a piece of cake and some bread and gave this to him to eat, and while he was eating, she snatched pieces from his mouth and ate them herself like a fledgling.
