Daphnis And Chloe
by Longus

Ah! what a life were this! how sweet, how lovely!
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroidered canopy
To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?
Oh yes it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.


While hunting in Lesbos I saw in a grove, sacred to the Nymphs, the most beautiful sight which had ever come before my eyes—an historical painting, which represented the incidents of a love-story. The grove itself was beautiful, abounding with trees and flowers, which received their nourishment from a single fountain. More delightful, however, than these was the painting, displaying, as it did, great skill, and representing the fortunes of Love. Because of the fame of this picture, many strangers resorted thither to pay their adorations to the Nymphs, and to view the painting. The subjects of it were women in the throes of child-birth; nurses wrapping the new-born babes in swathing clothes; infants exposed; animals of the flock giving them suck; shepherds carrying them away; young people pledging their mutual troth; an attack by pirates; an inroad by a hostile force.

As I viewed and admired these and many other things, all containing love allusions, I conceived the desire of writing an illustration of the piece, and having sought out a person to explain the various allusions, I at length completed four books,—an offering to the God of Love, to the Nymphs, and to Pan; a work, moreover, which will be acceptable to every one, for it will remedy disease, it will solace grief, it will refresh the memory of him who has once loved, it will instruct him who is as yet ignorant of love. No one, assuredly, has ever escaped, or will escape, the influence of this passion, so long as beauty remains to be seen, and eyes exist to behold it.

May the Deity grant me, undisturbed myself, to describe the emotions of others!

Daphnis And Chloe - Book I

In the island of Lesbos there is an extensive city called Mitylene, the appearance of which is beautiful; the sea intersects it by various canals, and it is adorned with bridges of polished white stone. You might imagine you beheld an island rather than a city.

About twenty-four miles from Mitylene, were the possessions of a rich man, which formed a very fine estate. The mountains abounded with game, the fields produced corn, the hills were thick with vines, the pastures with herds, and the sea-washed shore consisted of an extent of smooth sand.

As Lamon, a goatherd, was tending his herds upon the estate, he found a child suckled by a she-goat. The place where it was lying was an oak coppice and tangled thicket, with ivy winding about it, and soft grass beneath; thither the goat continually ran and disappeared from sight, leaving her own kid in order to remain near the child. Lamon watched her movements, being grieved to see the kid neglected, and one day when the sun was burning in his meridian heat he follows her steps and sees her standing over the infant with the utmost caution, lest her hoofs might injure it, while the child sucked copious draughts of her milk as if from its mother's breast. Struck with natural astonishment, he advances close to the spot and discovers a lusty and handsome male-child, with far richer swathing clothes than suited its fortune in being thus exposed; for its little mantle was of fine purple, and fastened by a golden clasp, and it had a little sword with a hilt of ivory.

At first Lamon resolved to leave the infant to its fate, and to carry off only the tokens; but feeling afterwards ashamed at the reflection, that in doing so, he should be inferior in humanity, even to a goat, he waited for the approach of night, and then carried home the infant with the tokens, and the she-goat herself to Myrtale his wife.

Myrtale was astonished, and thought it strange if goats could produce children, upon which her husband recounts every particular; how he found the infant exposed; how it was suckled; and how ashamed he felt at the idea of leaving it to perish. She shared his feelings, so they agreed to conceal the tokens, and adopt the child as their own, committing the rearing of it to the goat; and that the name also might be a pastoral one they determined to call it Daphnis.

Two years had now elapsed, when Dryas, a neighbouring shepherd, tending his flock, found an infant under similar circumstances.

There was a grotto sacred to the Nymphs; it was a spacious rock, concave within, convex without. The statues of the Nymphs themselves were carved in stone. Their feet were bare, their arms naked to the shoulder, their hair falling dishevelled upon their shoulders, their vests girt about the waist, a smile sat upon their brow; their whole semblance was that of a troop of dancers. The dome of the grotto rose over the middle of the rock. Water, springing from a fountain, formed a running stream, and a trim meadow stretched its soft and abundant herbage before the entrance, fed by the perpetual moisture. Within, milk-pails, transverse-flutes, flageolets and pastoral pipes were suspended—the offerings of many an aged shepherd.

An ewe of Dryas's flock which had lately lambed had frequently resorted to this grotto, and raised apprehensions of her being lost. The shepherd wishing to cure her of this habit, and to bring her back to her former way of grazing, twisted some green osiers into the form of a slip knot, and approached the rock with the view of seizing her. Upon arriving there, however, he beheld a sight far contrary to his expectation. He found his ewe affectionately offering from her udder copious draughts of milk to an infant, which without any wailing, eagerly turned from one teat to the other its clean and glossy face, the animal licking it, as soon as it had had its fill.

This child was a female: and had beside its swathing garments, by way of tokens, a head-dress wrought with gold, gilt sandals, and golden anklets.

Dryas imagining that this foundling was a gift from the Deity, and instructed by his sheep to pity and love the infant, raised her in his arms, placed the tokens in his scrip, and prayed the Nymphs that their favour might attend upon him in bringing up their suppliant; and when the time was come for driving his cattle from their pasture, he returns to his cottage, relates what he had seen to his wife, exhibits what he had found, urges her to observe a secrecy, and to regard and rear the child as her own daughter.

Nape (for so his wife was called) immediately became a mother to the infant, and felt affection towards it, fearing perhaps to be outdone in tenderness by the ewe, and to make appearances more probable, gave the child the pastoral name of Chloe.

The two children grew rapidly, and their personal appearance exceeded that of ordinary rustics. Daphnis was now fifteen and Chloe was his junior by two years, when on the same night Lamon and Dryas had the following dream. They thought that they beheld the Nymphs of the Grotto, in which the fountain was and where Dryas found the infant, presenting Daphnis and Chloe to a very saucy looking and handsome boy, who had wings upon his shoulders, and a little bow and arrows in his hand. He lightly touched them both with one of his shafts, and commanded them henceforth to follow a pastoral life. The boy was to tend goats, the girl was to have the charge of sheep.

The Shepherd and Goat-herd having had this dream, were grieved to think that these, their adopted children, were like themselves to have the care of flocks. Their dress had given promise of a better fortune, in consequence of which their fare had been more delicate, and their education and accomplishments superior to those of a country life.

It appeared to them, however, that in the case of children whom the gods had preserved, the will of the gods must be obeyed; so each having communicated to the other his dream, they offered a sacrifice to the "WINGED BOY, THE COMPANION OF THE NYMPHS," (for they were unacquainted with his name) and sent forth the young people to their pastoral employments, having first instructed them in their duties; how to pasture their herds before the noon-day heat, and when it was abated; at what time to lead them to the stream, and afterwards to drive them home to the fold; which of their sheep and goats required the crook, and to which only the voice was necessary.

They, on their part, received the charge as if it had been some powerful sovereignty, and felt an affection for their sheep and goats beyond what is usual with shepherds: Chloe referring her preservation to a ewe, and Daphnis remembering that a she-goat had suckled him when he was exposed.

It was the beginning of spring, the flowers were in bloom throughout the woods, the meadows, and the mountains; there were the buzzings of the bee, the warblings of the songsters, the frolics of the lambs. The young of the flock were skipping on the mountains, the bees flew humming through the meadows, and the songs of the birds resounded through the bushes. Seeing all things pervaded with such universal joy, they, young and susceptible as they were, imitated whatever they saw or heard. Hearing the carol of the birds, they sang; seeing the sportive skipping of the lambs, they danced; and in imitation of the bees they gathered flowers. Some they placed in their bosoms, and others they wove into chaplets and carried them as offerings to the Nymphs.

They tended their flocks in company, and all their occupations were in common. Daphnis frequently collected the sheep, which had strayed, and Chloe drove back from a precipice the goats which were too venturesome. Sometimes one would take the entire management both of goats and sheep, while the other was intent upon some amusement.

Their sports were of a pastoral and childish kind. Chloe sometimes neglected her flock and went in search of stalks of asphodel, with which she wove traps for locusts; while Daphnis devoted himself to playing till nightfall upon his pipe, which he had formed by cutting slender reeds, perforating the intervals between the joints, and compacting them together with soft wax. Sometimes they shared their milk and wine, and made a common meal upon the provision which they had brought from home; and sooner might you see one part of the flock divided from the other than Daphnis separate from Chloe.

While thus engaged in their amusements Love contrived an interruption of a serious nature. A she-wolf from the neighbourhood had often carried off lambs from other shepherds' flocks, as she required a plentiful supply of food for her whelps. Upon this the villagers assembled by night and dug pits in the earth, six feet wide and twenty-four feet deep. The greater part of the loose earth, dug out of these pits, they carried to a distance and scattered about, spreading the remainder over some long dry sticks laid over the mouth of the pits, so as to resemble the natural surface of the ground. The sticks were weaker than straws, so that if even a hare ran over them they would break and prove that instead of substance there was but a show of solid earth. The villagers dug many of these pits in the mountains and in the plains, but they could not succeed in capturing the wolf, which discovered the contrivance of the snare. They however caused the destruction of many of their own goats and sheep, and very nearly, as we shall see, that of Daphnis.

Two angry he-goats engaged in fight. The contest waxed more and more violent, until one of them having his horn broken ran away bellowing with pain. The victor followed in hot and close pursuit. Daphnis, vexed to see that his goat's horn was broken, and that the conqueror persevered in his vengeance, seized his club and crook, and pursued the pursuer. In consequence of the former hurrying on in wrath, and the latter flying in trepidation, neither of them observed what lay in their path, and both fell into a pit, the goat first, Daphnis afterwards. This was the means of preserving his life, the goat serving as a support in his descent. Poor Daphnis remained at the bottom lamenting his sad mishap with tears, and anxiously hoping that some one might pass by, and pull him out. Chloe, who had observed the accident, hastened to the spot, and finding that he was still alive, summoned a cowherd from an adjacent field to come to his assistance. He obeyed the call, but upon seeking for a rope long enough to draw Daphnis out, no rope was to be found: upon which Chloe undoing her head-band, gave it to the cowherd to let down; they then placed themselves at the brink of the pit, and held one end, while Daphnis grasped the other with both hands, and so got out.

They then extricated the unhappy goat, who had both his horns broken by the fall, and thus suffered a just punishment for his revenge towards his defeated fellow-combatant. They gave him to the herdsman as a reward for his assistance, and if the family at home inquired after him, were prepared to say that he had been destroyed by a wolf. After this they returned to see whether their flocks were safe, and finding both goats and sheep feeding quietly and orderly, they sat down on the trunk of a tree and began to examine whether Daphnis had received any wound. No hurt or blood was to be seen, but his hair and all the rest of his person were covered with mud and dirt. Daphnis thought it would be best to wash himself, before Lamon and Myrtale should find out what had happened to him; proceeding with Chloe to the Grotto of the Nymphs, he gave her his tunic and scrip in charge.

He then approached the fountain and washed his hair and his whole person. His hair was long and black, and his body sun-burnt; one might have imagined that its hue was derived from the overshadowing of his locks. Chloe thought him beautiful, and because she had never done so before, attributed his beauty to the effects of the bath. As she was washing his back and shoulders his tender flesh yielded to her hand, so that, unobserved, she frequently touched her own skin, in order to ascertain which of the two was softer. The sun was now setting, so they drove home their flocks, the only wish in Chloe's mind being to see Daphnis bathe again. The following day, upon returning to the accustomed pasture, Daphnis sat as usual under an oak, playing upon his pipe and surveying his goats lying down and apparently listening to his strains. Chloe, on her part, sitting near him, looked at her sheep, but more frequently turned her eyes upon Daphnis; again he appeared to her beautiful as he was playing upon his pipe, and she attributed his beauty to the melody, so that taking the pipe she played upon it, in order, if possible, to appear beautiful herself. She persuaded him to bathe again, she looked at him when in the bath, and while looking at him, touched his skin: after which, as she returned home, she mentally admired him, and this admiration was the beginning of love. She knew not the meaning of her feelings, young as she was, and brought up in the country, and never having heard from any one, so much as the name of love. She felt an oppression at her heart, she could not restrain her eyes from gazing upon him, nor her mouth from often pronouncing his name. She took no food, she lay awake at night, she neglected her flock, she laughed and wept by turns; now she would doze, then suddenly start up; at one moment her face became pale, in another moment it burnt with blushes. Such irritation is not felt even by the breeze-stung heifer. Upon one occasion, when alone, she thus reasoned with herself.—"I am no doubt ill, but what my malady is I know not; I am in pain, and yet I have no wound; I feel grief, and yet I have lost none of my flock; I burn, and yet am sitting in the shade: how often have brambles torn my skin, without my shedding a single tear! how often have the bees stung me, yet I could still enjoy my meals! Whatever it is which now wounds my heart, must be sharper than either of these. Daphnis is beautiful, so are the flowers; his pipe breathes sweetly, so does the nightingale; yet I take no account either of birds or flowers. Would that I could become a pipe, that he might play upon me! or a goat, that I might pasture under his care! ? cruel fountain, thou madest Daphnis alone beautiful; my bathing has been all in vain! Dear Nymphs, ye see me perishing, yet neither do ye endeavour to save the maiden brought up among you! Who will crown you with flowers when I am gone? Who will take care of my poor lambs? Who will attend to my chirping locust, which I caught with so much trouble, that its song might lull me to rest in the grotto; but now I am sleepless, because of Daphnis, and my locust chirps in vain!"

Such were the feelings, and such the words of Chloe, while as yet ignorant of the name of love. But Dorco the cowherd (the same who had drawn Daphnis and the goat out of the pit), a young fellow who already boasted of some beard upon his chin, and who knew not merely the name but the realities of love, had become enamoured of Chloe, from the first time of meeting her. Feeling his passion increase day by day, and despising Daphnis, whom he looked upon as a mere boy, he determined to effect his purpose either by gifts or by dint of force. At first he made presents to them both; he gave Daphnis a shepherd's pipe, having its nine reeds connected with metal in lieu of wax. He presented Chloe with a fawn skin, spotted all over, such as is worn by the Bacchantes. Having thus insinuated himself into their friendship, he by degrees neglected Daphnis, but every day brought something to Chloe, either a delicate cheese, or a chaplet of flowers, or a ripe apple. On one occasion he brought her a mountain calf, a gilt drinking cup, and the nestlings of a wild bird. She, ignorant as she was of love's artifices, received his gifts with pleasure; chiefly pleased, however, at having something to give Daphnis. One day it happened that Dorco and he (for he likewise was destined to experience the pains and penalties of love) had an argument on the subject of their respective share of beauty. Chloe was to be umpire, and the victor's reward was to be a kiss from her. Dorco, thus began—

"Maiden," said he, "I am taller than Daphnis, I am also a cowherd, he, a goatherd, I therefore excel him as far as oxen are superior to goats; I am fair as milk, and my hair brown as the ripe harvest field; moreover, I had a mother to bring me up, not a goat. He, on the other hand is short, beardless as a woman, and has a skin as tawny as a wolf; while, from tending he-goats, he has contracted a goatish smell; he is also so poor, that he cannot afford to keep even a dog; and if it be true that a nanny gave him suck, he is no better than a nanny's son."

Such was Dorco's speech; it was next the turn of Daphnis—

"It is true," said he, "that a she-goat suckled me, and so did a she-goat suckle Jove; I tend he-goats and will bring them into better condition than his oxen, but I smell of them no more than Pan does, who has in him more of a goat than any thing else. I am content with cheese, coarse bread, and white wine, the food suitable for country folk. I am beardless, so is Bacchus; I am dark complexioned, so is the hyacinth; yet Bacchus is preferred before the satyr and the hyacinth before the lily. Now look at him, he is as sandy haired as a fox, bearded as a goat, and smock-faced as any city wench. If you have to bestow a kiss, it will be given to my mouth, whereas it will be thrown away upon his bristles. Remember also, maiden, that you owe your nurture to a sheep, and yet this has not marred your beauty."

Chloe could restrain herself no longer, but partly from pleasure at his praising her, partly from a desire of kissing him, she sprang forward and bestowed upon him the prize; an artless and unsophisticated kiss, but one well calculated to set his heart on fire. Upon this, Dorco, in great disgust, took himself off, determined to seek some other way of wooing. Daphnis, as though he had been stung instead of kissed, became suddenly grave, felt a shivering all over, and could not control the beating of his heart. He wished to gaze upon Chloe, but at the first glance his face was suffused with blushes. For the first time he admired her hair, because it was auburn; and her eyes, because they were large and brilliant; her countenance, because it was fairer than even the milk of his own she-goats. One might have supposed that he had just received the faculty of sight, having had till then, "no speculation" in his eyes.

From this moment, he took no food beyond the merest morsel, no drink beyond what would just moisten his lips. Formerly more chattering than the locusts, he became mute; he was now dull and listless, whereas he had been more nimble than the goats. His flock was neglected, his pipe was thrown aside; his face became paler than the summer-parched herbage. Chloe alone could rouse his powers of speech; whenever he was absent from her, he would thus fondly soliloquize:—

"What will be the result of this kiss of Chloe? her lips are softer than rose-buds, and her mouth is sweeter than the honeycomb, but this kiss has left a sting sharper than the sting of a bee!—I have frequently kissed the kids, and the young puppies, and the calf which Dorco gave me, but this kiss of Chloe is something quite new and wonderful! My breath is gone, my heart pants, my spirit sinks within me and dies away; and yet I wish to kiss again! My victory has been the source of sorrow and of a new disease, which I know not how to name. Could Chloe have tasted poison before she permitted me to kiss her? If so, how is it that she survives? How sweetly the nightingales sing, while my pipe is mute! How gaily the kids skip and play, while I sit listlessly by! The flowers are in full beauty, yet I weave no garlands! The violets and the hyacinths are blooming, while Daphnis droops and fades away. Alas! shall Dorco ever appear more beautiful in Chloe's eyes, than I do!"

Such were the sensations of the worthy Daphnis, and thus he vented his feelings. He now first felt the power, and now first uttered the language of—LOVE.

In the mean time Dorco, the cowherd, who entertained a passion for Chloe, watched an opportunity of addressing Dryas on the subject; and finding him one day employed in planting a tree near one of his vines, he approached carrying with him some fine cheeses. First of all he begged Dryas to accept of the cheeses as a present from an old acquaintance and fellow herdsman; and then informed him of the affection which he cherished towards his daughter Chloe. He promised that, if he should be so happy as to obtain her for his wife, he was prepared to offer him gifts, many and handsome, as a cowherd 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, suitable for shoe leather, and a weaned calf annually.

Dryas was almost tempted by these promises to give his assent to the marriage; but on the other hand, reflecting that the maiden was deserving of a better match, and fearing lest if ever discovered, he might get himself into great trouble, he refused his assent, at the same time intreating Dorco not to be affronted, and declining to accept the gifts which he had enumerated.

Dorco being thus a second time disappointed of his hope, and having given his cheese away to no purpose, conceived a plan of attacking Chloe by force, whenever he should find her alone; and having observed that she and Daphnis, on alternate days, conducted the herds to drink, he contrived a scheme, worthy of a neatherd's brain. A large wolf had been killed by his bull, who fought in defence of the herd; Dorco threw this wolf's skin over him, so that it completely covered his back, reaching to the ground, and he adjusted it in such a manner, that the skins of the fore feet were fitted over his hands, while those of the hind feet spread down his legs to the very heels. The head, with its gaping jaws, encased him as completely as a soldier's helmet.

Having thus "be-wolfed" himself as much as possible, he withdrew to the spring, where the sheep and goats usually drank as they returned from pasture. The spring was in a hollow, and around it the furze, brambles, junipers, and thistles were so thick, that a real wolf might easily choose it as a lair. Here Dorco concealed himself, and anxiously waited for the time when the flocks should come to drink, and when Chloe, as he hoped, would be so startled and terrified by his appearance that he might easily seize her.

He had not remained long, when Chloe conducted the flock to the spring, leaving Daphnis employed in cutting green leaves as fodder for the kids in the evening. The dogs (the guardians of the sheep and goats) accompanied Chloe, and scenting about with their usual sagacity, discovered Dorco, who was in the act of moving. Taking him for a wolf they burst into full cry, rushed upon him, and seizing him before he could recover from his astonishment, fixed their teeth in the skin. This covering for a time protected him, and the shame of a discovery operated so strongly that he lay quiet in the thicket; but when Chloe, in her alarm at the first onset of the dogs, had called Daphnis to her aid, and when the skin was torn off by his assailants, so that they at length seized his flesh, he bawled out, entreating the assistance of the maiden 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 took Dorco and conveyed him to the spring (soundly bitten in the thighs and shoulders), where they washed his wounds, and chewing some fresh elm bark spread it as a salve. Innocent themselves, and totally ignorant of the desperate enterprizes of lovers, they imagined that Dorco's disguise was a mere piece of rustic sport, and, so far from being angry with him, they did their best to comfort him, led him by the hand, part of the way home—and bade him farewell.

Dorco, after his narrow escape from the dog's, and not (according to the old adage) from the wolf's mouth, retired home to nurse his wounds. Daphnis and Chloe had great trouble during the remainder of the day in collecting their sheep and goats, which, terrified at the sight of the wolf, and by the barking of the dogs, had fled in different directions: some had climbed the rocks, others had run down to the shore. They had, indeed, been instructed to obey their master's call; in any alarm the pipe was usually sufficient to soothe them, and if they were scattered, a clapping of the hands would collect them; but the late sudden alarm had made them forget their former discipline, so that Daphnis and Chloe were compelled to track them, as they do hares; and with much difficulty and trouble they brought them back to their cottages. That night only the young man and maiden enjoyed sound sleep, their fatigue furnishing a remedy for the pains of love. But with the morning their usual sensations returned. When they met,—they rejoiced; when they parted,—they were sad. They pined with grief. They wished for a something, but they knew not what. This only they were aware of, that the one had lost peace of mind by a kiss, the other by a bath.

The season, moreover, added fuel to their fire; it was now the end of spring; the summer had begun, and all things were in the height of their beauty. The trees were covered with fruit; the fields with corn. Charming was the chirp of the grasshoppers; sweet was the smell of the fruit; and the bleating of the flocks was delightful. You might fancy the rivers to be singing, as they gently flowed along, the winds to be piping, as they breathed through the pines; and the apples to be falling to the ground, sick of love; and that the sun, fond of gazing upon natural beauty, was forcing every one to throw off their garments. Daphnis felt all the warmth of the season, and plunged into the rivers; sometimes he only bathed himself; sometimes he amused himself with pursuing the fish, which darted in circles around him; and sometimes he drank of the stream, as if to extinguish the flame which he felt within. Chloe, when she had milked the goats and the sheep, had great difficulty in setting her cream, for the flies were very troublesome, and if driven away, they would bite her; after her work was done, she washed her face, crowned herself with a garland of pine-leaves, put on her girdle of fawn-skin, and filled a pail with wine and milk as a beverage for herself and Daphnis. As mid-day heat came on, the eyes of both were fascinated; she, beholding the naked and faultless figure of Daphnis, was ready to melt with love; Daphnis, on the other hand, beholding Chloe in her fawn-skin girdle and with the garland of pine-leaves on her head, holding out the milk-pail to him, fancied he beheld one of the Nymphs of the Grot, and taking the garland from her head, he placed it on his own, first covering it with kisses; while she, after often kissing it, put on his dress, which he had stripped off in order to bathe. Sometimes they began in sport to pelt each other with apples, and amused themselves with adorning each other's hair, carefully dividing it. She compared the black hair of Daphnis to myrtle-berries; while he likened her cheeks to apples, because the white was suffused with red. He then taught her to play on the pipe;—when she began to breathe into it, he snatched it from her, ran over the reeds with his own lips, and under pretence of correcting her mistakes, he in fact kissed her through the medium of his pipe.

While he was thus playing in the heat of the noon-day, and their flocks around them were reposing in the shade, Chloe imperceptibly fell asleep. Daphnis laid down his pipe, and while gazing upon her whole person with insatiable eyes, there being no one to inspire him with shame; he thus murmured, directing his words to her:—"What eyes are those, which are now closed in sleep! what a mouth is that, which breathes so sweetly! no apples, no thickets, exhale so delicious a scent! Ah! but I fear to kiss her! a kiss consumes me, and like new honey, maddens me! besides, a kiss would wake her! A plague upon those chirping grasshoppers, their shrill notes will disturb my Chloe! those vexatious goats, too, are clashing their horns together; surely the wolves are grown more cowardly than foxes, that they do not come and seize them!"

As he was thus soliloquizing, he was interrupted by a grasshopper, which in springing from a swallow which pursued it, fell into Chloe's bosom. The swallow was unable to take its prey, but hovered over Chloe's cheek and touched it with its wings. The maiden screamed and started; but seeing the swallow still fluttering near her, and Daphnis laughing at her alarm, her fear vanished, and she rubbed her eyes, which were still disposed to sleep. The grasshopper chirped from her bosom, as if in gratitude for his deliverance. At the sound Chloe screamed again; at which Daphnis laughed, and availing himself of the opportunity, put his hand into her bosom and drew the happy chirper from its place, which did not cease its note even when in his hand; Chloe was pleased at seeing the innocent cause of her alarm, kissed it, and replaced it, still singing, in her bosom.

At this moment they were delighted with listening to a ring-dove in the neighbouring wood, and upon Chloe's inquiring what the bird meant by its note, Daphnis told her the legend, which was commonly current:—"There was a maiden, my love, who, like yourself, was beautiful; like yourself, she tended large herds of cattle; and, like yourself, she was in the flower of youth. She sang sweetly;—so sweetly, that the herds were delighted with her song, and needed neither the crook nor the goad to manage them; they obeyed her voice; and remaining near listened to the maid, as she sat under the shade of the pine crowned with a garland of its leaves, and singing the praises of Pan, and the nymph Pitys. A youth, who pastured his herds at a little distance, and who was handsome, and fond as herself of melody, vied with her in singing; as he was a man, his tones were deeper, but as he was young, they were very sweet. He sang, and charmed away eight of her best cows to his own pastures. The maiden was mortified at the loss of her cattle, and at being so much surpassed in song; and, in her despair, prayed the gods to convert her into a bird before she reached her home. The gods assented to her prayer, and metamorphosed her into a bird; under which form, as of old, she frequents the mountains, and delights in warbling. Her note bespeaks her misfortune, for she is calling her wandering cows."

Such were the delights of summer.—Autumn was now advanced, and the black grapes were ripening; when some pirates of Tyre, in a light Carian bark, that they might not appear to be foreigners, touched at that coast and came on shore, armed with coats of mail and swords, and plundered everything which fell in their way. They carried off fragrant wine, corn in great plenty, honey in the comb. They also drove off some of Dorco's oxen, and seized Daphnis, who was musing in a melancholy mood, and rambling alone by the sea-shore. For Chloe being but young, was afraid of the insults of some of the saucy shepherds, and therefore had not led out her flock so early from the fold of Dryas. When the pirates saw this stout and handsome youth, who, they knew, would be a prize of greater value than the plunder of the fields, they took no more trouble about the goats, not did they proceed farther, but carried off the unlucky Daphnis to their vessel, weeping as he was hurried along, at a loss what to do, and calling loudly upon Chloe. When they had put him on board, they slipped their cable, and rowed from the shore. Chloe, in the mean time, who was still driving her flock, and carrying in her hand a new pipe as a present for Daphnis, when she saw the goats running about in confusion, and heard Daphnis calling out to her every moment in a louder voice, quitted her sheep, threw down the pipe, and ran to Dorco beseeching him to assist her.—He had been severely wounded by the pirates, and was lying upon the ground still breathing, the blood flowing from him in streams. At the sight of Chloe, reviving a little owing to the force of his former love, he exclaimed, "I shall shortly be no more, dear Chloe; I fought in defence of my oxen, and some of the rascally pirates have beaten me as they would have done an ox. Save your beloved Daphnis, revenge me, and destroy them. I have taught my cows to follow the sound of this pipe, and to obey its melody, even if they be feeding at the greatest distance. Take this pipe; breathe in it those notes, in which I once instructed Daphnis, and in which Daphnis instructed you. Do this, and leave the issue to the pipe and the cows. Moreover I make you a present of the pipe; with it I have obtained the prize from many a shepherd and many a herdsman. In return give me but one kiss, while I yet live; and when I am dead, shed a tear over me: and when you see another tending my flocks, remember Dorco."

Here he ceased, gave her a last kiss, and with the kiss resigned his breath. Chloe put the pipe to her lips, and blew with all her might. The cows began to low at hearing the well-known note, and leaped all at once into the sea. As they all plunged from the same side, and caused a mighty chasm in the waters the vessel lurched, the waves closed over it, and it sank. The crew and Daphnis fell into the sea, but they had not equal chances for preservation. The pirates were encumbered with their swords, scaled breast-plates, and greaves reaching to mid-leg: whereas Daphnis, who had been feeding his flocks in the plains, had not even his sandals on; and the weather being still very warm, he was half-naked. All swam for a little time, but their armour soon sunk the foreigners to the bottom. Daphnis easily threw off the garments which remained to encumber him, but, accustomed to swim only in rivers, buoyed himself up with great difficulty: at length, taught by necessity, he struck forward between two of the cows, grasped a horn of each of them, and was carried along as securely and as easily, as if he had been riding in his own wain. Oxen, be it observed, are better swimmers than men, or indeed than any animals, except aquatic birds and fish, nor are they in any danger of drowning unless their hoofs become softened by the water. The fact of many places being still called Ox-fords, will bear out the truth of my assertion.

Thus was Daphnis delivered from two perils—from the pirates and from shipwreck, and in a manner beyond all expectation. When he reached the shore, he found Chloe smiling through her tears: he fell on her bosom, and inquired, what had led her to play that particular tune.—She related everything which had occurred—her running to Dorco—the habit of his cows—HIS ordering her to pipe that tune, and finally his death, but through a feeling of shame she said nothing of the kiss.

They now determined to pay the last honours to their benefactor; accordingly they came with the neighbours and relatives of the deceased, and buried him. They then threw up over his grave a large pile of earth, and planted about it various trees, and suspended over it the emblems of their calling; in addition to which they poured libations of milk and of juice expressed from the grapes, and broke many pastoral pipes. Mournful lowings of the cattle were heard, accompanied with unwonted and disorderly movements, which the shepherds believed to be lamentations and tokens of sorrow on the part of the herd for their departed herdsman.

After the funeral of Dorco, Chloe led Daphnis to the grotto of the Nymphs, where she washed him; and then, for the first time in his presence, bathed her own person, fair and radiant with beauty, and needing no bath to set off its comeliness. Then, after gathering the flowers which the season afforded, they crowned the statues with garlands, and suspended Dorco's pipe as a votive offering to the Nymphs. Having done this they returned to look for their flocks, which they found lying on the ground neither feeding nor bleating, but looking about, as if waiting in suspense for their re-appearance. When they came in view of them, and called to them in their usual manner, and sounded their pipes, the sheep got up, and began to feed, while the goats skipped about, and bleated as if exulting at the safety of their herdsman. But Daphnis could not attune his soul to joy; after seeing Chloe naked, and her formerly concealed beauties unveiled, he felt an inward pain as though preyed upon by poison. His breath went and came as though he were flying from some pursuer; and then it failed, as though he were exhausted with running. Chloe had come from the bath with redoubled charms, and the bath was thus more fatal to Daphnis than the ocean. As for himself, he attributed his feelings to being, in fancy, still among the thieves,—rustic as he was, and as yet ignorant of the thievish tricks of love.

Book II

It was now the middle of autumn:—the vintage was at hand, and every one was busy in the fields. One prepared the wine-presses, another cleansed the casks, and another twisted the osiers into baskets. Each had a separate employ—in providing short pruning hooks, to cut the grapes; or a heavy stone, to pound them; or dry vine branches, previously well bruised, to serve as torches, so that the must might be carried away at night.

Daphnis and Chloe neglected for a time their flocks and mutually assisted one another. He carried the clusters in baskets, threw them into the wine-presses, trod them, and drew off the wine into casks; she prepared their meals for the grape-gatherers, brought old wine for their drink, and plucked off the lowest bunches. Indeed, all the vines in Lesbos were of lowly growth, and instead of shooting upwards, or twining around trees, they spread their branches downwards, which trailed along, like ivy, so close to the ground, that even an infant might reach the fruit.

The women, who, according to the custom at this festival of Bacchus, and birth of the vine, were called from the neighbouring villages to lend their assistance, all cast their eyes upon Daphnis, and exclaimed that he was equal in beauty to Bacchus himself. One of the most forward of these wenches gave him a kiss, which inflamed Daphnis, but sadly grieved poor Chloe.

On the other hand, the men who were treading the wine-press indulged in all manner of jests about Chloe, they danced round her as furiously as so many Bacchanals round a Bacchante, and exclaimed that they would gladly become sheep to be fed by her hand. These compliments delighted Chloe, but tormented poor Daphnis.

Each of them wished the vintage over, that they might return to their usual haunts, and instead of this discordant din might hear the sound of their pipe, and the bleating of their sheep. In a few days the vines were stript,—the casks were filled,—there was no longer any need of more hands, they therefore drove their flocks to the plain. In the first place, with sincere delight they went to pay their adoration to the Nymphs, and carried vine-branches with clusters of grapes on them, as first-fruit offerings from the vintage. Indeed, they never had hitherto passed by the Grotto without some token of respect, but always saluted them as they passed by with their flocks to their morning pasture, and when they returned in the evening, they paid their adoration, and presented, as an offering, either a flower, or some fruit, or a green leaf, or a libation of milk. This piety, as we shall see, had in the end its due reward. At the time we speak of, like young hounds just let loose, they leaped about, they piped, they sang, and wrestled and played with their goats and sheep.

While thus sporting and enjoying themselves, an old man, clothed in a coarse coat of skin, with shoes of undressed leather on his feet, and with a wallet (which, by the by, was a very old one) at his back, came up, seated himself near them, and addressed them as follows:—

"I who now address you, my children, am Philetas. I have often sung the praises of the Nymphs of yonder Grotto—I have often piped in honour of Pan, and have guided my numerous herd by the music of my voice. I come to acquaint you with what I have seen and heard. I have a garden which I cultivate with my own hands, and in which I have always worked, since I became too old to tend my herds. In it is every production of the different seasons; in spring it abounds with roses, lilies, hyacinths, and either kind of violets; in summer with poppies, pears, and apples of every sort; and now in autumn, with grapes, figs, pomegranates, and green myrtles. A variety of birds fly into it every morning, some in search of food, and some to warble in the shade; for the over-arching boughs afford thick shade, and three fountains water the cool retreat. Were it not inclosed with a wall, it might be taken for a natural wood. As I entered it to-day, about noon, I espied a little boy under my pomegranates and myrtles, some of which he had gathered; and was holding them in his hands. His complexion was white as milk, his hair a bright yellow, and he shone as if he had just been bathing. He was naked and alone, and amused himself with plucking the fruit with as much freedom as if it had been his own garden. Apprehensive that in his wantonness he would commit more mischief and break my plants, I sprang forward to seize him, but the urchin lightly and easily escaped from me, sometimes running under rose-trees, and sometimes hiding himself like a young partridge under the poppies.

"I have frequently been fatigued with catching my sucking kids, or my new-dropt calves; but as to this mischievous creature, in perpetual motion, it was utterly impossible to lay hold of him. Old as I am I was soon weary with the pursuit; so, leaning on my staff for support, and keeping my eyes on him lest he should escape, I asked him to what neighbour he belonged, and what he meant by gathering what grew in another person's garden.

"He made no reply, but approaching very near me, smiled sweetly in my face, and pelted me with myrtle-berries, and (I know not how) so won upon me, that my anger was appeased. I intreated him to come close to me, and assured him that he need not be afraid, swearing by the myrtles, by the apples, and by the pomegranates of my garden, that I wished only to give him one kiss, for which he should ever afterwards have liberty to gather as much fruit, and to pluck as many flowers as he pleased.

"Upon hearing me thus address him, he burst into a merry laugh, and with a voice sweeter than that of the swallow or the nightingale, or of the swan when grown aged like myself, he replied: 'I grudge you not a kiss, Philetas, for I have more pleasure in being kissed, than you would have in growing young again; but consider whether the gift would suit your time of life; for, old as you are, one kiss would not satisfy you, nor prevent you from running after me, while if even a hawk, an eagle, or any other swifter bird, were to pursue me, it would pursue in vain. I am not the child which I appear to be; but I am older than Saturn, ay, older than Time himself. I knew you well, Philetas, when you were in the flower of your youth, and when you tended your widely-scattered flock in yonder marsh. I was near you, when you sat beneath those beech-trees, and were wooing your Amaryllis: I was close to the maiden, but you could not discern me. I gave her to you, and some fine boys, who are now excellent husbandmen and herdsmen, are the pledges of your love. At this present time I am tending Daphnis and Chloe like a shepherd; and when I have brought them together in the morning, I retire to your garden: here I disport myself among your flowers and plants, and here I bathe in your fountain. Through me it is that your flowers and shrubs are so beauteous, for the waters, which have bathed me, refresh them. Look now, if any of your plants be broken down!—see, if any of your fruit be plucked!—examine whether the stalk of any flower be crushed—or the clearness of any one of your fountains be disturbed! and rejoice that you alone, in your old age, have had the privilege of beholding the boy who is now before you.' With these words he sprang like the youngling of a nightingale among the myrtles, and climbing from bough to bough, ascended through the foliage to the summit of the tree. I observed wings upon his shoulders, and between them a tiny bow and arrows; but in a moment I could neither see him nor them. Unless I have grown grey in vain, unless I have got into my dotage in growing old, you may rely on me, when I assure you, that you are consecrate to LOVE, and that you are under his peculiar care."

Daphnis and Choe were delighted, but they regarded what they had heard as an amusing story rather than a sober fact; and inquired of Philetas who and what this LOVE could be? whether he were a boy or a bird? and of what powers he was possessed? "My young friends," said Philetas, "he is a god, young, beautiful, and ever on the wing. He rejoices, therefore, in the company of youth, he is ever in search of beauty, and adds wings to the souls of those he favours. He has power far beyond that of Jove himself. He commands the elements, he rules the stars, and even the gods themselves, who are otherwise his equals; your power over your flocks is nothing compared to his. All these flowers are the works of love: these plants are effects produced by him. Through him these rivers flow, and these zephyrs breathe. I have seen a bull smitten by his power, who bellowed as though breeze-stung. I have seen the goat enamoured of the female, and following her everywhere. I myself was once young, I felt his influence, I loved Amaryllis. I thought not of my food, I cared not for my drink; I could take no rest, for sleep was banished from my eyelids. My soul was sad—my heart beat quick—my limbs felt a deadly chill. Now I cried aloud, as if I had been beaten; now I was as silent as if I were dead; and now I plunged into the rivers, as if to extinguish the flame which consumed me. I invoked Pan to assist me, inasmuch as he had known what it was to love his Pitys. I poured forth praises to the Nymph Echo for repeating the name of my Amaryllis: in anger I broke my pipe because it could soothe my herds, but could not prevail over Amaryllis; for there is no mighty magic against love; no medicine, whether in food or drink: nothing, in short, save kisses and embraces, and the closest union of the naked body."

Philetas, having given them this information, bade them farewell; but before permitting him to depart, they presented him with a cheese, and a kid with newly budding horns.

Daphnis and Chloe, left to themselves, mused in silence upon the name of Love, which they had now heard for the first time. Sorrow seemed to have stupified them, till at night, as they returned home, they began to compare their own sensations with what they had heard from Philetas.

"According to Philetas, lovers are sad—so are we; they neglect their calling—so do we; they cannot sleep—no more can we. A fire appears to burn within them—we feel this fire; they long for the sight of one another—we, too, are always wishing for the day to dawn. Our disorder must be love, and we have loved each other without being aware of it. If this be not love, and if we be not mutually lovers, why are we thus sad? why do we so eagerly seek each other? All that Philetas has told us is true. The boy, whom he saw in the garden, is the same who appeared to our parents in the dream, and commanded that we should follow the pastoral life. How is it possible to catch the urchin? He is little and will escape from us. At the same time, who can escape from him? He has wings, and will pursue us. We must away to the Nymphs and implore their assistance. And yet Pan could not assist Philetas when in love with Amaryllis. We must seek the remedies which the old man suggested—kisses and embraces, and lying naked upon the grass; we shall feel it very cold, but we will bear what Philetas has borne before us." Thus were their thoughts employed during the night. The next morning, after driving their flocks to pasture, they for the first time kissed each other upon meeting, and afterwards mutually embraced.

The third remedy they were afraid of; the lying naked upon the grass appeared too bold a step for a maiden, nay, even for a youthful goatherd. Again, therefore, they passed a sleepless night, calling to mind what they had done, regretting what they had omitted. "We kissed," said they, "and are none the better; we embraced, and have found no relief. This lying side by side must needs be the sole remedy for love; assuredly it will prove more efficacious than the kiss and the embrace." As might have been expected, their dreams were akin to their daily thoughts. In sleep they kissed and they embraced; in sleep they did that which they had omitted to do during the day. Next morning they rose more than ever inflamed with passion, and hissed along their flocks, all the while in anticipation of the kiss. They came in sight of one another, their faces mutually beaming with delight. Again there was repeated the kiss and the embrace; the remaining remedy was still untried, Daphnis being unwilling to propose it, and Chloe feeling the like hesitation. Chance came to their aid. They were sitting beside each other upon the trunk of a tree: having once tasted the luxury of a kiss, they were insatiable of its delight; they entwined one another in their arms, and so drew their bodies into closer contact. Daphnis, in the course of this embrace, straining Chloe more tightly to his bosom, she falls upon her side, and he falls with her, and thus acting out the image of their dreams, they long lay locked in each other's arms. Their innocence knew nothing beyond this; they imagined that love had nothing farther to bestow; so after fruitlessly passing the greater portion of the day in this manner, they separated, and drove home their flocks, loathing the approach of night. They might, perhaps, on a future occasion have become greater adepts in the mysteries of love, had not the following circumstance spread tumult and confusion throughout their neighbourhood.

Some rich young men of Methymna, who had formed a pleasure party for passing the vintage-season out of town, launched a small vessel, employing their servants as rowers, and shaped their course towards the fields of Mitylene, which lie near the sea-coast. They knew that there was an excellent harbour for them, with every thing adapted for their accommodation, as the shore was adorned with handsome houses, with baths, with gardens, and with groves, some of which were the productions of nature, and some of art.

Here the party arrived, and drew their boat into a safe place, after which they committed no acts of mischief, but amused themselves in various ways, with rod and line angling for rock-fish, which were found under the different promontories, or hunting the hares, which, terrified by the noise of the grape gatherers, had fled towards the shore, and capturing them by means of dogs and nets. Part of their amusement also was to set snares for birds: many wild ducks, wild geese and bustards were caught, so that their sport supplied their table in a great measure; and whatever addition they wanted was easily procured from the labourers in the fields, who were paid more than its worth for everything which they supplied. Their chief inconvenience was want of bread and wine, and a good lodging at night; for as it was late in the autumn, they did not think it safe to sleep on board their boat, but in apprehension of storms, usual at this season, were wont to draw it up on shore.

It so happened that a countryman had broken the old rope to which the stone was suspended for crushing his grapes after they had been trodden in the wine-press, and being in want of another to supply its place, had come clandestinely down to the sea-shore, and taking the cable from the boat, which was left without any one to watch it, had quietly conveyed it home to supply his need. The young MethymnŠans, in the morning, made inquiries after their rope; but as no one confessed the theft, after venting their reproaches on this breach of hospitality, they launched their boat, and left that part of the coast. After sailing rather more than a league, they landed on the estate where Daphnis and Chloe dwelt. It appeared to them to be a good country for hare-hunting. Having no rope to serve as a cable, they twisted some vine-branches as a substitute, and tied the head of their boat to the shore: then let loose the dogs to scent about in the places most likely for game, and fixed their nets. The cry of the hounds, running hither and thither, frightened the goats, which fled from the mountains down to the sea-shore, where some of the boldest of the flock, finding no food upon the coast, approached the boat and gnawed the branches which were fastened as a cable.

At the same moment a swell set in, owing to the breezes blowing from the mountains. The motion of the waves began to carry off the boat, and, at length, bore it out to sea. The MethymnŠans saw the accident: some of them ran in great haste down to the shore: others hastened to call the dogs together: and all of them cried out for assistance, in hopes of assembling the labourers from the neighbouring fields. It was all of no avail, for the wind increased, and the boat was driven down the current. When the MethymnŠans found themselves thus deprived of it, and of the considerable property which it contained, they inquired for the goat-herd, and finding him to be Daphnis, they beat him severely and stripped him. One of them took a dog-leash, and bending Daphnis' arms behind his back, was preparing to bind him. Poor Daphnis, smarting with his beating, roared out for assistance: he called upon all his neighbours, but upon Lamon and Dryas in particular. The old men took his part stoutly: the toils of husbandry had made them hard handed; they demanded that an inquiry should be made agreeably to the rules of justice. The neighbours, who had now reached the spot, backed them in their demand, and appointed Philetas umpire in the business. He was the oldest man present, and was celebrated among the villagers for the equity of his decisions. The charge of the MethymnŠans was made plainly and with conciseness suitable to the rustic judge before whom they pleaded. "We came here," said they, "to hunt, and fastened our boat to the shore with some vine-branches, while we roamed about with our dogs in search of game. In the meantime, this young man's goats came down to the coast and ate the fastening of our boat, which has proved the loss of it. You yourself, saw it driven out to sea, and what valuables think you it had on board? Why, store of clothes and of dog-gear, and of money—money enough to have purchased all these fields around us. In return for what we have lost, we have surely a right to carry off this heedless goatherd, who, sailor-fashion, chooses to pasture his goats on the sea-coast."

This was what the MethymnŠans alleged. Daphnis was in sore plight from the blows which he had received; but seeing Chloe among the crowd, he rose superior to his pain, and spoke as follows:—

"I am, and always have been very careful of my herds. What neighbour can say that a goat of mine ever browsed upon his garden, or devoured any of his sprouting vines? It is these sportsmen who are themselves to blame, for having dogs so badly broken as to run wildly about making such a barking, and like so many wolves driving my sheep from hill and dale down to the sea. The poor brutes eat the vine branches; no wonder, for they could find no grass, nor shrubs, nor 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:—who, in his senses, can believe that a boat freighted with so much wealth, was intrusted to a vine branch for its cable?"

Daphnis said no more, but burst into tears, which moved all his countrymen with compassion. Philetas, the judge, 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. This decision had no effect on the MethymnŠans, who flew into a rage, and seizing Daphnis, were preparing to bind him. The villagers irritated at such behaviour, fell upon them as thick as starlings or rooks, and rescued Daphnis, who now began to fight in his own defence. In a very short time the MitlyenŠans, by dint of their clubs, put the strangers to flight, and did not desist from the pursuit, till they had driven them into a different quarter of the island.

While they were engaged in the pursuit, Chloe led Daphnis gently by the hand to the grotto of the Nymphs; there she washed the blood from his face and nostrils, and taking a slice of bread and cheese from her scrip, gave it him to eat. After she had thus refreshed him, she impressed a honeyed kiss with her tender lips.

So near was Daphnis getting into serious trouble; but the affair did not end here. The MethymnŠans reached their own city with much pain and difficulty; for instead of sailing they had to travel on foot, and instead of every luxury, and convenience, they had nothing but bruises and wounds for their comfort. Immediately upon their arrival at home, they called an assembly of their fellow townsmen, and intreated them to take up arms to avenge their cause, which they represented in their own way, altogether 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 people of Mitylene of having seized their boat, as if it belonged to an enemy, and of plundering it of all its contents. Their wounds, which they exhibited, gained them belief among their countrymen, who resolved to avenge the cause of the young men, and 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 ordered their naval commander to launch ten vessels immediately, and ravage the coasts of the enemy. As the winter was coming on they did not think it safe to hazard a larger fleet.

Early the very next day he put to sea; and employing his soldiers as rowers, steered his course to the shores of Mitylene. Here he seized numbers of cattle, a great quantity of corn and wine, (the vintage being lately ended,) together with the labourers who were still at work there. Thus plundering as they went, they landed at last on the estate where Daphnis and Chloe resided, and carried off whatever came to hand. Daphnis was not then tending his goats, but had gone to the wood, to cut green branches for the winter fodder of his kids. Looking down from the woods, he saw these ravages; and immediately hid himself in the hollow of a decayed beech tree. Chloe happened to be with the flocks; she fled in affright to the grotto of the Nymphs: and the invaders pursued her. Here she intreated them, if they had any respect to the deities of the place, to spare her and her flocks; but her prayers were of no avail; for the ravagers, after offering many insults to the statues of the goddesses, drove off the flocks, and hurried Chloe along with them, as if she had been one of her own goats or sheep, striking her ever and anon with vine twigs.

Their vessels being now filled with plunder of all kinds, the MethymnŠans thought it advisable not to prosecute their voyage farther, but to return home, more especially as they were apprehensive of the winter storms, and of an attack from the inhabitants. Accordingly they put about; but, as there was no wind, they had to labour at their oars.

Daphnis, (when all was quiet) came down to the plain, the usual place for pasturing their flocks, but not a goat, nor a sheep was to be seen, nor was Chloe herself there: when he saw the whole place deserted, and found Chloe's pipe thrown upon the ground, he burst into loud and bitter lamentations:—he ran to the beech tree, which had been their usual seat, and then to the ocean, to try if he could descry her, he searched for her in the grotto, whither she had fled, and whence she had been dragged away. Here, at last, he threw himself on the ground in despair, and exclaimed against the Nymphs, as the deserters of his Chloe.

"Chloe has been torn away from you, ye Nymphs, and yet ye could endure to see it! she who has woven so many garlands for you, who has poured so many libations of new milk to you, and whose pipe is here suspended as an offering to you! Never did a wolf carry off a single goat of mine, but marauders have now carried away all my flock, and their mistress with them.—My goats will be flayed, my sheep will be sacrificed, and my Chloe will henceforth be confined within a city! how shall I venture to return to my father and mother without my goats, and without my Chloe?—I, who shall appear a deserter of my charge! I have no more flocks to tend, so here will I lie, till death take me, or the enemy again lay hold of me. Ah! my Chloe, do you share in my sufferings?—do you still remember these plains, these Nymphs and me; or are you consoled by having the sheep and goats for your companions in captivity?"

Thus did Daphnis vent his grief, till weary with weeping and lamenting he fell into a deep sleep. While slumbering, the three Nymphs appeared to stand before him; they were tall and beautiful, half-naked and without sandals; their hair flowed loose over their shoulders, and indeed in every respect they resembled their statues in the grotto. At first they shewed signs of commiseration for Daphnis, and, presently, the eldest of them addressed him in these consolatory words:—

"Do not accuse us, Daphnis; Chloe is an object of deeper anxiety to us, than she is even to yourself. We had compassion on her when she was an infant; when she was exposed in this grot, we adopted her and bred her up. She is not Lamon's daughter, nor do Lamon's fields or herds in any part belong to her. We have at this time been providing for her safety, so that she shall not be taken to Methymne as a slave, nor be numbered among the spoils. We have intreated Pan, (whose statue stands beneath yonder pine, and whom you have never honoured even with a bunch of flowers) to come forward as Chloe's champion, for he is more used to warfare than we are, and has often quitted his rural groves to join in the din of battle. He is on Chloe's side, and he will be found no despicable enemy by the MethymnŠans. Be not uneasy then, nor perplex yourself; arise, shew yourself to Lamon and Myrtale, who have thrown themselves on the earth in despair, under the idea that you too are carried off by the enemy. To-morrow Chloe and her flocks shall return, when you shall tend them together, and together shall play upon your pipe.—Leave your future fates to the care of Love."

After these words and vision in his dream, Daphnis sprang up, and, while his eyes were filled with tears, partly of grief and partly of joy, he paid his adorations to the statues of the Nymphs, and vowed, that upon Chloe's safe return he would sacrifice a she-goat (the best of his herd) to the protecting goddesses. Then he hastened to the pine, beneath whose shade stood the statue of Pan. The legs of the rural god were those of the goat, and he had a horned forehead; in one hand he held a pipe, with the other he grasped a goat, which was in the attitude of bounding. Daphnis adored his statue likewise, prayed on behalf of Chloe, and vowed to sacrifice a he-goat for her safety. Scarcely could he cease from his tears and intreaties by sun-set, when taking up the green fodder which he had been cutting, he returned to his home, where his presence dispelled Lamon's grief and filled him with joy, After taking some refreshment he retired to rest; but his sleep was not even then without tears. In his slumbers he poured forth prayers to the Nymphs to bless him with another vision, and sighed for the return of day, when his Chloe was to be restored.—Of all nights this appeared to him the longest.—During its continuance the following events took place:—

When the MethymnŠan commander had rowed somewhat more than a mile, he wished to afford his men some rest, wearied as they were with their past exertions. At length he espied a promontory, which projected into the sea in a semicircular form, affording a harbour more calm and secure than even a regular port. Here he anchored his fleet, keeping his vessels at a distance from the shore, that they might not be exposed to any attack from the inhabitants, while his men indulged themselves at their ease and in all security. The crews having plenty of all manner of provision among their plunder, eat and drank and gave themselves up to joy, as if they had been celebrating a festival for victory. The day was closing; and their merriment was being prolonged to night, when suddenly all the earth appeared in a blaze; and the dash of oars was heard, as if a mighty fleet were approaching. They called upon their commander to arm himself: they shouted to each other; some fancied that they were wounded; others that they saw the bodies of the slain before their eyes. It appeared like a night engagement against an invisible enemy.

A day of greater terror succeeded to the darkness. The goats belonging to Daphnis, appeared with branches full of ivy berries on their horns: the rams and ewes, which had been taken with Chloe, instead of bleating, howled like wolves. Their mistress was seen to have a garland of pine-leaves round her head. The sea also had its marvels. The anchors stuck fast in the mud, and could not be drawn up: when the men dipped their oars in order to row, they were shattered in pieces. The dolphins leaped from the sea, and with their tails broke the planks of the vessels. From the top of the rock behind the promontory the sound of a pipe was heard: but it did not, like the pipe, delight the ear with dulcet sounds, but terrified like the harsh blast of a trumpet. The men of Methymna were confounded; they seized their arms, and called out to their enemies who were invisible; they prayed for the return of night, which might bring a truce to their terrors.

To all those who were capable of reflection, it was evident, that these phantasms and sounds proceeded from Pan, who must have conceived some cause of indignation against them: but what the cause could be, they were at a loss to conjecture, for they had not plundered any thing which was sacred to the god. About the middle of the day their commander (not without the intervention of the god) fell into a deep sleep, when Pan appeared to him and addressed him thus:

"? most abandoned, most impious of men, to what lengths has your madness driven you! The fields, which are dear to me, ye have filled with the tumults of war: the herds and the flocks, which were my peculiar care, ye have taken as plunder. Ye have dragged a virgin from the altar, whom Cupid had reserved in order to adorn a Tale of Love. Ye regarded not the Nymphs, who beheld your deeds, nor even the mighty Pan. Never shall ye reach Methymna, sailing with these spoils, nor shall yourselves escape the terrors of the pipe which has thus confounded you. Unless ye immediately give back Chloe to the Nymphs, and restore her goats and sheep, I will submerge you and ye shall become food for fishes. Bestir yourselves, therefore, land both her and them, I will guide your course by sea, and hers by land."

Bryaxis (for such was the commander's name) awoke from his dream, and immediately ordered the captain of every vessel to search among his prisoners for Chloe. They soon found her, for she was sitting still crowned with pine-leaves, and brought her before him. Bryaxis regarded the ornament on her head as a proof and confirmation of what he had seen in the vision, and without delay took her on board his own vessel, and conveyed her safe to the shore. No sooner had she landed than the sound of the pipe was again heard from the rock: but it was no longer dreadful like the blast of the war trumpet: on the contrary it was sweet and pastoral in tone, as when the shepherd is leading out his flock to feed. The sheep ran down the gangway, without their horny hoofs slipping. The goats, used to steep places, proceeded still more venturesomely. Upon reaching the shore the flocks formed themselves in a ring around Chloe, like a company of dancers, skipping and bleating and exhibiting every symptom of joy; while the sheep and goats and oxen belonging to the other shepherds remained quiet in the holds of the vessels, as if knowing that the pipe, which sounded, was not intended to summon them. While every one was struck with astonishment, and celebrated the power of Pan, still stranger sights appeared both by sea and land.

Before the crews had time to heave their anchors, the ships of themselves began to make sail, and a dolphin, which leaped and played on the waves, swam before the admiral's ship as guide. On the other hand Chloe's goats and sheep were led by most ravishing music of the pipe, which continued its notes, though the player was invisible: sheep and goats continued to graze and pace gently onward listening with delight to the melody.

It was the time of evening-pasture, when Daphnis from the summit of a rock espied his Chloe and her flocks. ? Pan! ? ye Nymphs! he shouted in rapture, and hurrying down into the plain threw himself into Chloe's arms, fainted, and fell to the ground. The kisses and soothing embraces of the maiden with some difficulty restored him to his senses, after which he proceeded to their favourite beech-tree, under the shade of which he sat down, and inquired how Chloe had escaped from so many enemies. She related everything which had happened—the appearance of the ivy around the goats' horns—the wolfish howling of the sheep—the pine garland encircling her own temples—the blaze of fire on the land—the unwonted noise at sea—the two discordant notes of the pipe—that of war and that of peace—the terrors of the night—and lastly, how the melody guided her hither, through fields and over plains to which she was a stranger. Upon hearing this, Daphnis recognized the vision of the Nymphs, and the influence of Pan, and in his turn, he gave Chloe an account of all which he had seen and heard. He informed her how when ready to destroy himself, he had been preserved through the intervention of the Nymphs.

He then sent Chloe to summon Dryas and Lamon with their servants and to desire them to bring every requisite for a sacrifice, while he in the mean time took the choicest of his she-goats, crowned it with ivy (just as it had appeared to the enemy on board of ship) poured milk between its horns, and sacrificed it to the Nymphs. Then he hung it up and flayed it, and suspended its skin as an offering to them.

Chloe now arrived with Lamon and the servants. A fire was immediately kindled, upon which part of the goat's flesh was boiled and part of it roasted. Daphnis offered the first portions to the Nymphs, and poured out to them a libation of new must; he then piled some leaves into the form of couches, reclined at his ease upon one of them, and gave himself up to good cheer and mirth: but at the same time kept a watchful eye on his sheep for fear a wolf should effect what the enemy had been foiled in doing. After this the party sang the praises of the Nymphs in songs, which had been indited by the shepherds of by-gone days. They slept in the field that night, and in the morning remembered Pan. The leader of the goats was selected from the herd; a chaplet of pine-leaves was bound round his horns, and he was led to the statue, which stood beneath the pine; when after pouring over him a libation of wine, carefully avoiding all ominous expressions, the victim was slain, suspended, and flayed. The flesh, part of which was roasted and part boiled, was spread out upon some dry leaves in the meadow. The skin with the horns was hung up on the tree hard by the statue of the god—a pastoral offering to a pastoral deity. A first portion also of the flesh was offered, and libations poured to him from the largest goblet. Chloe sang; while Daphnis piped.

Having discharged their religious rites, they were reclining on the grass and feasting, when Philetas the herdsman accidentally came by, bringing with him some garlands, and vine-branches, laden with their clusters, as offerings to Pan. Tityrus, his youngest son, a golden-haired, blue-eyed, fair and sportive boy followed him. At the sight of Philetas, Daphnis and Chloe sprang from their grassy couch, assisted in crowning Pan, and in suspending the clusters to the tree, and then made Philetas seat himself by them, and join in their carousal. Very soon, as old men do when their clay is moistened, they began to talk of their youthful adventures, of the flocks which they had fed, of incursions of marauders, which they had escaped in the days when they were young. One prided himself on having slain a wolf: another boasted, that in piping he was second to Pan alone.—This was the boast of Philetas.

Daphnis and Chloe used urgent entreaties that he would teach them the art, and that he would play on the pipe at the festival of that deity, who delights in its melody. The old man complained that age had shortened his powers of breath, but complied with their request, and took up the pipe of Daphnis. It was a pipe too small to do justice to so great an art; being suited only for a boy. Accordingly he despatched Tityrus to bring his own pipe from the cottage, which was rather more than a mile off. The boy threw aside his cloak, and darted off like a young fawn. Lamon, in the mean time, promised to amuse them with the legend of the Syrinx, (or pipe) which he had heard from a Sicilian shepherd, who received a he-goat and a pipe as the price of his song.

"This pipe was not formerly what it is now, an instrument of music: it was once a maiden of beautiful form, and melodious voice. She fed her flocks, she sported with the Nymphs, and the sound of her voice was sweet as it is now. Pan beheld the maiden feeding her flocks, disporting herself, and singing. He approached her, and endeavoured to win her to his will, promising her as an enticement that all her she-goats should bear two kids at a birth. The maiden laughed at his suit, and replied that she would never think of accepting as a lover, one who was neither man nor goat, but a compound half of each.—Pan was preparing to offer violence: the maiden fled from him, and when weary with running, hid herself among the reeds of a lake and disappeared. Her pursuer in a rage cut the reeds, but finding no damsel there, and perceiving what had taken place, he in memory of her formed this instrument. Compacting with wax unequal reeds in order to shew how the course of their love had not run smooth.—Thus she, who was once a beauteous maiden, is now a musical pipe: the instrument inheriting her name."

While Philetas was commending Lamon's legend, which, he said, was more pleasing than any song, Tityrus appeared with his father's pipe, a large instrument formed of the largest reeds, and ornamented with brass over the junctures of the wax. A person might have imagined it to be the very pipe whose reeds had been first united by Pan. Philetas rose up, placed himself upon a seat in an erect posture, and began to try whether the reeds were in good order: he found the air pass through them freely, and then with as much energy as if he had been in the prime of youth, he blew a note so vigorous and full, that it appeared like a band of pipers playing in concert. By degrees he moderated the vehemence of his tones, and turned them into a softer strain. He ran through all the variations of pastoral melody; he played the tune, which the oxen obey, that which attracts the goats, that in which the sheep delight. The notes for the sheep were sweet, those for the oxen deep, those for the goats were shrill. In short, his single pipe could express the tones of every pipe which is played upon.

Those present lay listening in silent delight; when Dryas rose up, and desired Philetas to strike up the Bacchanalian tune. Philetas obeyed, and Dryas began the vintage-dance, in which he represented the plucking of the grapes, the carrying of the baskets,—the treading of the clusters, the filling of the casks, and the drinking of the new-made wine. All this Dryas imitated so closely and admirably in his pantomimic dance, that the spectator might fancy the wines, the wine-press, and the casks to be actually before him, and that Dryas was drinking in reality.

Each of the three old men had now severally distinguished himself. Dryas, in his delight gave Daphnis and Chloe a kiss, who immediately sprang from their seats, and began to dance a ballet representative of Lamon's fable. Daphnis assumed the character of Pan, and Chloe that of Syrinx. While he endeavoured to entice her to his embraces, she smiled in scorn at his attempts. He pursued her, and ran upon his tiptoes in imitation of the cloven feet of the god: while she making a semblance of exhaustion, at last hid herself in the wood, making it a substitute for reedy lake. Upon losing sight of her, Daphnis seizing the large pipe of Philetas, breathed into it a mournful strain as of one who loves; then a love-sick strain as of one who pleads; lastly and recalling strain, as of one who seeks her whom he has lost.

Philetas himself was astonished, and ran and embraced the youth and kissed him: and with a prayer, that Daphnis might transmit the pipe to as worthy a successor, bestowed it on him as a gift. The youth suspended his own pipe as an offering to Pan, kissed Chloe with as much ardour as if she had really been lost and found again, and led his flocks home by the sound of his new instrument. Chloe also (as night was coming on) conducted her sheep homeward to the music of her pipe. The goats kept close by the sheep, as Daphnis kept close by Chloe. In this manner did they enjoy each other's company, till night-fall, when they agreed to meet earlier at the pasture the next morning, an arrangement which they punctually fulfilled. As soon as the day dawned, they were in the fields. They paid their adorations to the Nymphs first, and then to Pan, afterwards retiring from their devotions to their seat under the shade of the oak, where they played their accustomed melodies. They interchanged kisses and embraces, and lay down side-by-side, but this was all; then rising, they bethought them of their meal, at which they partook of milk and wine.

Becoming gradually warmed and emboldened by all this they began to enter into an amorous revelry, and to swear perpetual affection and fidelity. Daphnis advanced to the sacred pine, and called Pan to witness, that he would never live apart from his Chloe—no—not for the space of a single day. Chloe entered the Grotto, and swore by the Nymphs, that she would live and die with Daphnis: and in the simplicity of her heart, upon coming out, she required that Daphnis should bind himself by a second oath; "for," (said the maiden) "my dear Daphnis, Pan himself, by whom you swore, is a lover, and yet unfaithful. He loved Pitys, he loved Syrinx, and yet he never ceases from pestering the Dryads with his addresses, or from causing annoyance to the Epimelian Nymphs, the guardians of our herds. He who breaks his own vows will hardly punish you, even if you should attach yourself to more damsels than there are reeds in this pipe. Come, dearest Daphnis, you must swear by this herd and by the she-goat, which nursed you, that, while Chloe is faithful to you, you will never desert her; on the other hand if Chloe should ever do despite to you, and to the Nymphs—fly from her—detest her—kill her, as you would kill a wolf."

Daphnis, delighted even at her mistrust, which shewed the warmth of her affection, placed himself in the midst of his herd, and taking hold of a she-goat with one hand, and a he-goat with the other, swore to be true to Chloe, while she was true to him; and that if she should ever prefer another before him, he would put an end not to her but to himself.

Chloe was happy:—for she believed him with all the simplicity of a girl, and of a shepherdess, and of one who thought that the sheep and the goats were the fitting and peculiar deities of those who tended them.

Book III

When the inhabitants of Mitylene heard of the descent made by the ten vessels, and had been informed by some coming from the spot of the plunder which had been carried off, they were of opinion that such an injury on the part of the MethymnŠans was insufferable, and immediately raised a force of three thousand infantry and five hundred cavalry, which they put under the command of Hippasus with orders, that he should lead his men by land, and not embark them on board of ship, as a voyage in the winter season would be dangerous.

The general began his march, but he did not lay waste the country of the enemy, nor did he plunder the possessions of the husbandman, or of the shepherd, thinking such petty warfare suitable to a captain of a banditti, rather than to the leader of an army. He hastened his march in order to reach the gates of the city and attack the inhabitants while they were off their guard. When his troops approached within eleven miles of the city, a herald came out to them with proposals for a truce. The MethymnŠans had discovered from the prisoners, that the citizens of Mitylene were ignorant of the beginning of the affray, and that the insolence of their own young men had drawn upon them the vengeance inflicted by the herdsmen and shepherds. They repented, accordingly, of having acted precipitately rather than prudently towards a neighbouring city, and were desirous to restore all their plunder, in order that friendly intercourse by sea and land might be restored. Although Hippasus had full powers given him of acting as he thought proper, he ordered the herald to proceed to Mitylene, while he pitched his camp about a mile from the enemy's city, and waited for the answer of his fellow-citizens. In two days a messenger arrived with orders for him to refrain from any act of hostility, to receive the restored booty, and to return home; for since the declaration of peace or war rested on the decision of the people, they considered peace far preferable.

Thus did the war between Methymne and Mitylene begin and end in an equally unexpected manner.

Winter, however, was more formidable to Daphnis and Chloe, than war had been. On a sudden heavy falls of snow blocked up the roads, and shut up the cottagers within doors. Impetuous torrents rushed down from the mountains, the ice thickened, the trees seemed as though their branches were broken down beneath the weight of snow, and the whole face of the earth had disappeared except about the brinks of fountains and the borders of rivers.

No one led his flocks to pasture, or even ventured to stir from home; but lighting large fires, at cock-crowing, some employed themselves in twisting ropes, some in weaving goats' hair, and some in making snares and nets to catch birds. At the same time they took care to supply the oxen in their stalls with chaff, the goats and sheep in their cotes with leaves, and the hogs in their styes with holm-berries and acorns.

As every one was of necessity confined within-doors, most of the labourers and shepherds were glad at having an interval of release from their wonted labours, and immediately after their morning-meal lay down, and enjoyed a lengthy sleep, winter appearing to them more pleasant than the summer, the autumn, or even the spring. But Daphnis and Chloe cherished in their memory the pleasures, of which they were now deprived,—their kisses, their embraces, and their happy meals together. They passed nights of sleeplessness and sorrow, and looked for the return of spring as a restoration to life after an interval of death. It was painful to them, if chance threw in their way a scrip, from which they had eaten, or a vessel from which they had drunk, or if they happened to cast their eyes on a pipe, now thrown aside with neglect, which had once been bestowed and received as a token of love. Frequent were their prayers to the Nymphs, and to Pan, to deliver them from their troubles, and once more to let the sun shine upon them and their herds, and while thus engaged they also endeavoured to devise some scheme, by which they might obtain a sight of one another. Chloe was quite at a loss, and could not contrive any plan, successfully, for her reputed mother was always sitting near her, teaching her to card wool and to turn the spindle, and touching upon the subject of marriage.

Daphnis, however, had greater quickness of invention, and more leisure than the maiden, and hit upon the following scheme for getting a sight of Chloe. Two lofty myrtle trees and an ivy grew before Dryas's cottage, and indeed under the very cottage itself. The ivy grew between the myrtle trees, throwing out on either side, its sprays like a vine, and forming an arbour by intermingling its leaves with theirs. The berries hung down in thick clusters, and were as large as grapes. Numbers of winter birds flocked thither from want of food elsewhere; such as blackbirds, thrushes, wood-pigeons, starlings, and a variety of others, which live on berries. Daphnis filled his scrip with some honeyed cakes, and quitted his home under pretence of going to catch some of these birds. To remove all suspicion of his real design he carried with him plenty of birdlime and snares. The distance was little more than a mile, but the frost and the snow, which had not yet melted, rendered the road very toilsome. To LOVE, however, all things are passable—fire, and water, and even Scythian snows. Having soon arrived at the cottage, he shook the snow from his legs and feet, set the snares, spread the birdlime, and seated himself in the arbour watching the birds, but thinking of Chloe. So many were very soon caught, that he had abundance of occupation in collecting them together, killing and plucking them. In the mean time, not a man, not a maiden, not even a domestic fowl came out of the cottage: the whole family were shut up and close around the fire. Daphnis was now utterly at a loss what to do, and thought that he had come at an unlucky time. He determined to knock at the door if he could find any pretext, and began to consider what would appear most plausible. "What, if I say that I want a light to kindle our fire? they will reply 'you have neighbours within a stone's throw of your cottage.' What, if I request something to eat?—'your scrip is full of victuals.' What, if I ask for some wine?—'you have but lately got in the vintage.' What, if I exclaim that a wolf has been pursuing me?—'where are the traces of his feet?' What, if I tell them I came to snare birds?—'why not go home again, if you have had sport enough?' Shall I at once say that I have come to see Chloe? Ah! who will venture to make such a bold avowal to the father and mother of the maiden? My pleas will be all exhausted and I shall be reduced to silence. Since none of these excuses will pass free from suspicion, it were better to hold my tongue. It seems decreed by the Fates that I shall not see my Chloe during the winter; I must wait with patience until the spring."

After indulging in some such thoughts as these, he took up his game, and was preparing to depart, when, as if Love took pity on him, the following occurrence happened.

The family within had spread their table: the meat was portioned out; a slice of bread was placed for each, and the goblet was ready mixed. One of the sheep-dogs, who had watched his opportunity, when no person was observing him, seized a piece of meat, and made his escape. Dryas (for the stolen meat happened to be his portion) snatched up a club, and pursued the thief, following him up like a second dog. Daphnis had thrown the birds over his shoulder, and was just about hurrying away when Dryas espied him. At the sight of Daphnis he immediately forgot both meat and dog, called out after him, "Good morrow, my son!" ran to him, embraced him, took him by the hand, and led him into the house. When the lovers saw each other, they were very near sinking to the ground; however, they continued to support themselves, while they saluted and embraced: indeed their embrace acted as a stay, and prevented them from falling.

Having thus contrary to his expectation obtained an interview with his Chloe and a kiss, Daphnis drew nearer to the fire, and sat down: then taking the wood-pigeons and thrushes from his shoulder threw them upon the table, while he related to the family the weariness which he felt from so long and tedious a confinement at home, the eagerness with which he set out in pursuit of some sport, and the manner in which he caught the birds, some with a snare, some with birdlime, when they came in search of the myrtle and ivy berries. The family praised his activity, and compared him to "Apollo the far-darting;" and urged him to partake of what the dog had fortunately left; desiring Chloe in the mean time to pour him out wherewithal to drink. She cheerfully complied and handed the goblet to all the others first, last of all to Daphnis, pretending to be affronted with him, for having come thither and intending to go away without asking to see her: nevertheless, before holding the beaker out to him, she sipped a little from it, and then presented it; upon which he, although thirsty, drank as leisurely as possible, in order to prolong his pleasure, by protracting his draught.

The table was soon cleared of the fragments of bread and meat: after which, as they were sitting by the fire, they began to inquire after Myrtale and Lamon, who were pronounced fortunate in having such an excellent provider for their old age. Daphnis was delighted at having these commendations pronounced upon him in the hearing of Chloe, and when her parents proceeded to insist upon his remaining with them till next day, when they intended to sacrifice to Bacchus, he was very nearly adoring them in lieu of the god. He immediately produced his store of honeyed cakes from his scrip, together with the birds, which he had caught, which they dressed for supper. A second goblet was mixed; and a second fire was lighted. Night soon came on, when they partook of a hearty meal; and at its conclusion, after telling stories, and singing songs, they retired to rest. Chloe slept with her mother, and Daphnis with Dryas. Chloe's only pleasure was the thought of seeing Daphnis the next morning; Daphnis enjoyed a kind of hollow satisfaction, even from sleeping with Chloe's father, whom he hugged and kissed, dreaming all the while, that the embraces were being bestowed upon Chloe.

When the day broke the cold was intense, and the sharp north wind was parching up every thing. Dryas and his family arose, sacrificed a ram of one year old to Bacchus, and lighted a large fire to boil the meat. Nape made the bread, while Dryas attended to the meat, and, while they were thus engaged, Daphnis and Chloe proceeded to the ivy-covered arbour, where they set snares and spread birdlime, and again caught no small quantity of birds. Kisses and delightful converse were continuously interchanged between them.

"I came hither entirely on your account, Chloe."

"I know it, my dear Daphnis."

"On your account it is that these poor blackbirds now perish; what place have I in your affections? Do think of me!"

"I do think of you, my Daphnis, I swear it by the Nymphs whom I once invoked in that Grotto, whither we will repair again so soon as the snow shall have melted."

"The snow lies very thick; I fear that I shall melt away, before it does."

"Do not despair, Daphnis, the sun is very warm."

"Would that it were as warm as the fire which burns my heart!"

"You are in jest: you are deceiving me, Daphnis."

"No! I am not; I swear it by the goats, whom at your bidding I invoked."

Chloe's reply was an echo to what Daphnis said. Nape now calling them, they hurried into the house with a much larger supply of game than Daphnis had taken the day before. First pouring out a libation to Bacchus, from the goblet, they sat down to their banquet with chaplets of ivy on their heads. When it was time to part, after loudly shouting in honour of the god, Daphnis took his leave, Dryas and his wife having filled his bag with meat and bread, and insisting upon his carrying the wood-pigeons and thrushes home to Lamon and Myrtale; for, as they said, they should be able to catch as many as they pleased so long as the cold lasted and the ivy berries did not fail. At length Daphnis bade them farewell, and at his departure gave each of them a kiss, but he saluted Chloe last of all, that her kiss might remain pure and unalloyed upon his lips.

He frequently found out pretences for paying them fresh visits; so that the winter did not pass by altogether without an interchange of love.

In the opening of spring, when the snow was melted, the face of the earth again uncovered and the grass beginning to grow, the shepherds and herdsmen led forth their flocks to the pastures, but Daphnis and Chloe were earlier than the others, inasmuch as they were under the guidance of a mightier shepherd (Love). The first place to which they hastened, was the grotto of the Nymphs; the next was the pine-tree, where stood the statue of Pan; they then proceeded to the oak, under which, sitting down, they watched their feeding flocks, and kissed and embraced each other. Wishing to crown the statues of the deities, they sought for flowers: these were but just beginning to come out under the mild influence of the zephyr, and the genial warmth of the sun; but they found the violet, the narcissus, and the pimpernel, and all the other firstlings of the year: with these they crowned the statues, and then poured out libations of new milk drawn from the ewes and the she-goats. After this ceremony they began to tune their pastoral pipes, as though challenging the nightingales to resume their song: these answered softly from the thickets, and gradually became perfect in their plaintive strains, as if recalling them slowly after so long a silence.

The sheep were heard bleating, while the lambs were seen to frisk about, or stooping under their mothers drew the teat; the rams pursued and leaped upon those which had never lambed. The he-goats did the like, contending for their mates, each making choice of his own, and guarding her from the approach of a rival.

All these objects might have kindled love even in hoary age; they who were in the bloom of youth, full of vigour, and long since warmed by desire, were inflamed by such sounds, melted at such sights, and longed for something beyond a kiss and an embrace.

Especially was this the case with Daphnis. He had passed the whole winter in the house, and in a state of inactivity, he therefore was more impetuous than ever in his desire for kissing and embracing Chloe, and became bolder and more inquisitive in all love matters. He urged her to grant him all his wishes; and proposed that they should lie side by side, naked, since of the precepts given by Philetas for curing love, this remained untried. She inquired what there possibly could be besides kisses, embraces, and reclining side by side; why did he wish that they should recline together naked?

"I wish," said he "to follow the example of the rams and ewes; of the male goats and their females.—After their amorous sport, the females no longer flee, and the males no longer pursue; but both feed quietly together, as if they felt a mutual pleasure. There must be some gratification in what they do; something which cures the sting of love." "But," returned Chloe, "the postures of the sheep and goats are very different from ours; the males leap upon the females from behind; this is out of the question with us; besides, you wish me to lie beside you naked, whereas they have a thick covering given them by nature."

Daphnis admitted the reasonableness of this; so after lying by her side, as usual, for a considerable time, ignorant how to gratify his passions, he got up and actually shed tears, at being less expert in love than a silly sheep.

They had a neighbour named Chromis, who farmed some land of his own. He was growing old, but his wife, who came from the city, was young, good looking, and superior in manners to the common rustics; her name was LycŠnium. Seeing Daphnis driving his goats past her house, conducting them to pasture in the morning, and home again in the evening, she was very desirous of enticing him into love by means of presents.

Upon one occasion, watching until he was alone, she gave him a pipe, a honeycomb, and a scrip of deer-skin. She did not say anything at the time, suspecting his affection for Chloe, by seeing him always in her company. Hitherto, however, her knowledge of the fact was founded only upon having seen nods and laughter exchanged between them. Not long after, pretending to Chromis in the morning that she was going to visit a neighbour in the pains of childbirth, she followed the lovers, and concealed herself in a thicket, in order to avoid discovery; from thence she saw and heard everything which passed between them, and was a witness of the tears shed by Daphnis under his disappointment. Commiserating their trouble, and conceiving the present a good opportunity to promote their wishes, and to gratify her own desires, she had recourse to the following expedient.

The next morning, under cover of the same excuse as on the previous day, she went straight to the oak where Daphnis and Chloe were sitting together; then admirably counterfeiting a state of great alarm, she exclaimed, "Come to my aid, I entreat you, Daphnis, an eagle has carried off the finest among my twenty geese; and unable to bear it to yonder high rock, has fallen with it in the neighbouring low wood. In the name of Pan and the Nymphs come into the wood and rescue my goose, I am afraid to enter it by myself. Do not let me have my number made imperfect; besides you may perhaps kill the eagle, and will then no longer be in dread of having your lambs carried away.—Chloe will, in the meantime, mind your flocks, the goats know her as well as they do you, from your being always in company."

Daphnis, having no suspicions of her motives, got up and followed LycŠnium, who led him as far as possible from Chloe; upon arriving in the thickest of the wood, near a fountain, she bid him sit down beside her.—"You are in love, Daphnis," she said; "the Nymphs informed me of this, last night; they told me of the tears which you shed yesterday, and have commanded me, for the sake of your relief, to teach you love's mysteries. These are not limited to kisses and embraces, and the doing what is done by the rams and goats; they result in much greater pleasure, and are longer in duration. If, therefore, you wish to be freed from your pains, and to make trial of the sweets which you so long for, you must become my willing pupil, and out of regard to the Nymphs I will be your instructress." Daphnis could scarcely contain himself for joy, but rustic as he was, a goatherd, young and in love, he threw himself at LycŠnium's feet, entreating her to teach him with all speed the art of gratifying his passion for Chloe.—Moreover, as if about to learn something very mysterious and wonderful, he promised to reward her pains with a kid, some cheeses made of the first new milk, and the she-goat herself. Finding the young shepherd so liberal in his offers, she began to tutor him. She made him sit close to her, bidding him kiss and embrace her, and lastly lie down beside her, as was his wont with Chloe. After this, seeing his amorous ardour, she received him into her arms, and, aided by nature, led him to the wished-for consummation.

When this amorous lesson was concluded, Daphnis, in his simplicity, was upon the point of hurrying back to Chloe, to put in practice what he had learnt, for fear lest through delaying he might forget it. LycŠnium however stopped him, saying,—"You have something more yet to learn, Daphnis,—I am a full grown woman, and have felt no inconvenience from what has taken place; I was instructed in this art by another man, who received my maidenhead as his reward;—but Chloe, when she engages in this amorous contest, will cry out, and shed tears, and suffer inconvenience; however, you must not mind all this; so when you find her in a compliant humour, bring her to this wood, where you will be free from all intrusion,—and remember, that you have had me for your instructress previous to Chloe." LycŠnium, after giving him this advice, retired to another part of the wood as if still in search of the lost goose. Daphnis, reflecting upon what she had said, restrained his former impetuosity, fearing to be the cause of any pain and inconvenience to Chloe; and determining to solace himself with her only in the accustomed manner, he issued from the wood. Upon his return he found her weaving a chaplet of violets; so, pretending that he had delivered the goose from the talons of the eagle, he threw his arms around her and embraced her, since in this at least there could be no danger. She placed the chaplet upon his head, and kissed his hair, which, in her estimation was far preferable to the violets. Then producing from her scrip a cake of figs and bread, she gave him some, then snatching the morsels from his mouth, eat them herself, like the youngling of a bird.

While they were at their meal, which, however, consisted more of kisses than of food, a fishing boat was seen proceeding along the coast. There was no wind stirring; a perfect calm prevailed: so having taken to their oars, the crew were rowing vigorously, their object being to carry some newly caught fish to a rich man in the city. They dipped their oars, doing what sailors usually do to beguile their toil. The boatswain sung a sea-song, and the rest joined in chorus at stated intervals. When they were in the open sea, the sound was lost, their voices being dispersed into the air, but when running under a headland they came into any hollow and crescent-shaped bay, the sound became much louder, and the song of the boatswain was distinctly heard on shore. A deep valley here sloped down from the plain above, which received into it the sound, as into an instrument of music, and repeated with the most perfect imitation every note which was uttered. There could be heard the distinction between the dash of the oars, and the voices of the sailors; and a very pleasing sound it was; beginning on the sea, the duration of its echo upon shore was proportioned to its greater lateness in commencing.

Daphnis, understanding the nature of the echo, turned his attention solely to the sea, and was delighted with viewing the boat as it glided by the shore quicker than a bird could fly. At the same time he endeavoured to store up some of these strains in his memory, that he might play them on his pipe. Chloe, who had never, till now, heard what is called an echo, turned first to the sea, and listened to the boatmen, as they sang, and then looked round to the woods, in expectation of seeing those, who (as she thought) were singing in responsive chorus.

At length the rowers were out of sight, and all was silent, even in the valley; when Chloe inquired of Daphnis whether there was another sea behind the hill, and another boat, and other sailors, who all sang the same strain, and who all left off together. Daphnis sweetly smiled upon her, and gave her a still sweeter kiss, and putting the chaplet of violets on her head, proceeded to relate to her the legendary tale of Echo, upon condition of receiving ten kisses for his pains.

"There are various classes of the Nymphs, my love;—the Melians, who dwell among the ash-groves, the Dryads, who preside over the oaks, and the ElŠan, 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 also was the same. She was brought up by the Nymphs, and was taught by the Muses to play upon the pipe, the flute, the lyre, and the harp, in short she was instructed in every species of music; so that when the maiden arrived at the flower of her youth, she danced with the Nymphs, and sang with the Muses. Attached to the state of maidenhood, she shunned the sight of all males, whether men or gods. This roused the indignation of Pan; jealous of her skill in music, and irritated by her refusal of his advances, the god inspired the shepherds and herdsmen with such frenzy, that they rushed upon her like so many hounds or wolves, tore her in pieces, and threw in every direction, her limbs, yet sending forth melodious sounds. Earth, in order to gratify the Nymphs, covered the maiden's limbs, but preserved to her the gift of song; and, by the will of the Muses, she still has the power of utterance, and, as when alive, still imitates all sounds; the voices of the gods—of men—of instruments—of animals, even of Pan himself when playing on his pipe. He, when he hears the sound, springs up, and rushes in pursuit over the mountains, not in order to bend her to his wishes, but to find out who can be this his hidden pupil."

When Daphnis had finished his tale, Chloe, instead of giving him ten kisses only, bestowed upon him a thousand; and Echo repeated every kiss, as if in testimony that Daphnis had not added anything to her history, which was not true.

The heat of the weather daily increased, since spring was departing, and summer was approaching. The new delights, which this season brings, again returned to them. Daphnis swam in the rivers, and Chloe bathed in the fountains; he played upon the pipe, vying with the murmuring pine-trees; she sang, and emulated the nightingales with her melody: they chased the noisy locusts, they caught the chirping grasshoppers, they gathered posies, or shook down the fruit from the trees, and ate it. Sometimes, also, they lay side by side, covered with a goat-skin; but fearing lest passion might carry him away, Daphnis would not often permit her to display all her beauties; at which she in her innocence was astonished, but said nothing.

During the summer, Chloe had many suitors, who came to Dryas, and entreated him to bestow his daughter in marriage. Some brought with them a gift, and some made great promises. Nape, elated with hope, advised her husband to marry Chloe forthwith, and not to keep a maiden of her age any longer at home, lest, while pasturing her flocks, she should some day lose her virtue, and take to herself a partner upon the strength of a present of fruit or flowers; the best course was to secure for her a good match, and to keep all the presents of her suitors for the infant son who had been lately born to them.

Dryas was sometimes almost persuaded by her arguments, for the gifts promised by each wooer, were far beyond what a mere shepherdess had reason to expect; but, on the other hand, he reflected that the maiden was far too good for common lovers, and that, if ever her real parents should be discovered, she would be the means of making them rich for life.

For these reasons he declined giving a decided answer, and postponed from time to time, meanwhile, receiving presents of no small value. Chloe, as soon as she knew of this, was overwhelmed with grief; but for a considerable time concealed its cause from Daphnis, for fear of giving him pain. He, however, was earnest and persevering in his inquiries as to the subject of her sorrow, and evidently felt more miserable at having the truth concealed from him, than he would do if he knew it; accordingly she acquainted him with every circumstance—with the fact of the suitors being numerous and wealthy, with Nape's arguments for immediate marriage, with the hesitation of Dryas in refusing, and his resolution to postpone matters until the next vintage-season should begin.

Daphnis, almost beside himself at hearing her relation, sat down and wept bitterly, exclaiming, that, were he deprived of Chloe as a companion in the pastures, it would prove his death, and not his death only, for that his sheep would die upon losing such a master. After this burst of sorrow, recovering himself, he resolved to take courage, bethought him of endeavouring to persuade Chloe's father to receive him as her suitor, flattering himself that he should be far superior to the others, and would be preferred before them. There was one obstacle, which gave him uneasiness—Lamon was not rich: this reflection alone rendered his hopes of success slender. Nevertheless he determined to declare himself a suitor, and Chloe approved of his design.

He did not venture to declare his intention to Lamon, but taking courage, communicated his love to Myrtale, and spoke also of the marriage; she imparted everything to her husband at night. Lamon treated her intercession for Daphnis very harshly, and rebuked his wife for thinking of marrying to a mere shepherd's daughter, a youth who by the tokens found upon him, seemed to give promise of a much higher fortune, and who, should he ever find his relatives, would not only procure the freedom of his foster-father and mother, but also make them master and mistress of a much larger estate.

Myrtale, fearing lest the youth, blighted in his hopes of marrying Chloe, should make an attempt upon his own life, gave him a different reason for the opposition on her husband's part. "We are poor, my son, and we require a girl who will bring a portion with her; they, on the other hand, are rich, and expect rich suitors. However, go and persuade Chloe, and get her to prevail upon her father, not to look for too great a match, but to let you take her for a wife. The girl herself, I am sure, dearly loves you, and would certainly prefer sharing her bed with a handsome youth, however poor, than with an ugly ape, however rich."

Myrtale had no expectation that Dryas, who had so many richer suitors applying to him, would ever agree to the wishes of Daphnis, and considered herself to have offered very plausible arguments for disposing of the subject of the marriage.

Daphnis could not in justice find fault with what she said; but, as needy lovers generally do, he burst into tears; and again invoked the assistance of the Nymphs.

As he slept at night, they again appeared to him in the same dress and form, as they had done before, and the eldest of them thus addressed him.

"Chloe's marriage is under the superintendence of another deity: as for yourself we will furnish you with gifts which shall soften Dryas, and win his consent. The boat belonging to the young men of Methymna, whose vine-branch cable your goats devoured, was that same day carried far out to sea by the violence of the wind: at night the gale blowing from the sea, it was driven towards the land and dashed upon some rocks, there it was wrecked and everything in it lost. A purse of three thousand drachmas was thrown ashore, and lies covered with seaweed near a dead dolphin, the putrid stench of which is so offensive that no one will approach it but hastens by as fast as he can. Go, take this money, and offer it to Dryas. It is enough at present to make you appear not absolutely poor; the time will come, when you will be very rich."

After speaking to this effect, they disappeared, and with them the darkness of the night; day dawned, and Daphnis leaping from his bed with joy, 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 it was his intention to bathe, and then walked along the sands close to the beach, seeking the three thousand drachmas. The search required little labour: the dolphin lay rotting in his path, and yielding a "most ancient and fish-like smell," which served to guide him on his way. He immediately approached it, and upon removing the weeds found the purse full of silver, which he put into his scrip; but before quitting the spot he uttered blessings upon the Nymphs and upon the ocean likewise; for although a shepherd he now thought the sea more delightful than the land, since it contributed to promote his marriage with Chloe.

Having got possession of this sum, he thought himself not merely richer than his neighbours, but the richest man upon the earth, and immediately hastened to Chloe, related his dream to her, shewed her the purse, and desired her to tend the herds till he came back: then, hurrying with all speed to Dryas, whom he found with Nape busied in beating out corn upon the threshing floor, he boldly entered upon the subject of the marriage.

"Give me Chloe for a wife. I can play well on the pipe; I can prune vines; I can plant; I can plough; and I can winnow. To my skill as a herdsman Chloe can bear witness: fifty she-goats were given to my charge, and their number is now doubled. Formerly we used to send our females to a neighbour's males; but now I have reared large and handsome he-goats of our own. I am young; and, as I have been your neighbour, you know me to have a blameless character. A goat, moreover, nursed me, as a ewe did Chloe. Being on so many points superior to other suitors, you will not find me their inferior in my gifts. They will offer their goats and their sheep, or a yoke of mangy oxen, or corn not fit to feed even dunghill fowls! I will give you three thousand drachmas!—only let no one know what I have offered—not even Lamon, my father!" So saying, he presented the money and threw his arms round the neck of Dryas.

Dryas and Nape were surprised at the sight of so much money, and not only promised to give Chloe in marriage, but also undertook to procure Lamon's consent to the match. Nape remained with Daphnis, and drove the oxen round the floor, while by means of the threshing-machine, she separated the grains. Dryas, in the meantime, laid by the money carefully, in the place where the tokens were stored up, and hastened to Lamon's house upon the novel errand of asking a husband for his daughter. He found Lamon and Myrtale measuring some barley, which had been just winnowed, and in very bad spirits at finding it yield little more than the seed which had been put into the ground, and endeavoured to console them by saying, that this season the complaint was general. He then asked Daphnis in marriage for Chloe. "Others," said he, "would willingly make me handsome presents, I however will accept nothing from you, but, on the contrary, will give you of my own substance. The two young people have been brought up together, and from feeding their flocks in company they have contracted a mutual fondness which cannot easily be dissolved, and they are now of sufficient age to consummate a marriage."

These and many more arguments he urged with all the eloquence of one who had received three thousand drachmas for his guerdon. Lamon was no longer able to plead his poverty, since Dryas entertained no objections upon that head; nor could he object to the age of Daphnis, for he was by this time a young man; but even now he did not explain the real cause of his unwillingness, which was, that Daphnis was of too good birth for such a match.

After remaining sometime silent he replied as follows. "You act justly, Dryas, in preferring your neighbours before strangers, and in not thinking wealth superior to honest poverty. May Pan and the Nymphs reward you with their friendship for this! I myself am eager for the marriage: I who am halfway on the road to old age, and begin to feel the want of assistance on my farm, should indeed be crazy, were I to refuse a connection with your family; this in itself would be a great advantage, and Chloe, too, is most desirable on account of her beauty, youth, and goodness. At the same time you must consider that I am only a serf on this estate: I am owner of nothing here: it is necessary that my master should be acquainted with the business, and that we should have his consent. Suppose, then, that we defer the marriage till the autumn: persons from the city have informed me, that he intends coming hither at that time. They shall then be man and wife; for the present let them love each other like brother and sister. I will only farther say, friend Dryas, that you are seeking as son-in-law one who is superior to us all." He added no more, but embraced Dryas, and handed him some drink, it being mid-day and very hot, and wishing to shew him every mark of kindness, accompanied him part of his way home.

The last expression of Lamon was not lost upon Dryas, but as he went along he thought within himself,—"Who can Daphnis be? He was suckled by a she-goat, as if under the providential care of the deities themselves; he is very handsome, and bears no resemblance to the flat-nosed Lamon, or the bald-headed Myrtale; he is master, also, of three thousand drachmas,—few goatherds can call so many pears their own! Was he exposed by the same person who exposed Chloe? Did Lamon find him, as I found her? were tokens left with him like those which I found? If, ? Pan, and ye Nymphs, it be so, whensoever he finds his own relatives, he may throw some light upon the secret history of Chloe also!"

Thus he proceeded, thinking and dreaming, until he reached the threshing-floor. There he found Daphnis on the tiptoe of expectation to learn his tidings. Dryas relieved his mind by addressing him as son-in-law; he promised him that the nuptials should take place in the autumn, and gave him his right hand in confirmation that Chloe should be the wife of no other.

Swifter than thought, without stopping to eat or drink, away ran Daphnis to Chloe. He found her engaged in milking and making cheese, told her the good news of their approaching wedding, kissed her openly, as though she were already his wife, and not by stealth as he used to do, and began to assist her in her work, by milking the goats and ewes into the pails, setting the cheeses upon the racks, and placing the lambs and kids under their dams. When their labours were concluded, they washed themselves, ate and drank, and then went out in search of some ripe fruit. Of this there was abundance, it being the most fruitful season of the year. There were pears, both wild and cultivated, and all sorts of apples, some of which were lying on the ground, and some still hanging upon the branches. Those upon the ground smelt sweeter; those upon the boughs were brighter in colour; the former were as fragrant as new wine, the latter shone like gold. One tree had been entirely stripped; its branches were bare; it had neither leaves nor fruit, except a single apple, which grew upon the top of the highest branch. This apple was very large and beautiful, and its solitary perfume surpassed the united fragrance of many others. The gatherer had either been afraid of climbing to the summit of the tree, or he had preserved this beautiful fruit for some love-sick shepherd. Daphnis, as soon as he espied it, began to climb the tree, giving no heed to Chloe, who endeavoured to prevent him, and who finding herself disregarded hurried away pettishly after her herds. Daphnis climbed the tree, succeeded in seizing the apple, carried it as a present to Chloe, and presented it to her, with these words:—"Maiden, this fruit was produced and cherished by the beauteous hours; the sun matured it with his beams, and fortune has preserved it; unless blind, I could not leave it either to fall on the ground, where cattle, as they grazed, might tread on it, or where the snake might crawl over it, and defile it with his slime; or where time might rot it as it lay; still less could I do this when it had been seen and praised by you. Venus received an apple as the prize of beauty; the same prize I adjudge to you. Paris and I are equally fitted to be umpires: he was a shepherd, I am a goatherd."

With these words he placed the apple in her bosom, and she, upon his drawing near, bestowed on him a kiss; so that Daphnis did not repent of having ventured to climb to such a height; for the kiss which he received was more precious to him than a golden apple.

Book IV

One of Lamon's neighbours, who was a fellow serf under the same lord, called in his way from Mitylene, and informed him that their master intended coming just before the vintage, to see whether the incursion of the MethymnŠans had done any damage to his lands. The summer was now closing, and autumn approaching very fast; Lamon, therefore, immediately began to put the house in such order as might, in every respect, please his master's eyes. He cleansed the fountains, that the water might be pure; carried the manure out of the yard, that the smell might not be offensive; and trimmed his garden, that all its beauty might be seen.

His garden was indeed a beautiful one, and laid out in a princely style. It was situated on high ground, and was five hundred feet in length, while in breadth it contained four acres, so that one might have supposed it an extensive plain. In it were all kinds of trees,—the apple, the myrtle, the pear, the pomegranate, the fig, the olive, which grew here in perfection. On one side of this garden was a lofty vine, whose branches, laden with blackening grapes, were suspended above the apple and pear trees, as if vying with them in the show of fruit. Such were the cultivated trees. There were also cypresses, laurels, planes, and pines, over which an ivy instead of a vine stretched out her branches, with berries in size and colour resembling grapes.

The fruit-trees occupied the interior space. Those which did not bear fruit were ranged on the outside, serving the purpose of an artificial fence; and the whole was inclosed by a slight hedge. All were placed in a strict and regular order, so that their trunks were perfectly distinct one from the other, but at a certain height their branches met, and intermingled their leaves with a regularity which, though the work of nature, appeared to be the effect of art. Here were also beds of various flowers, some of which were cultivated plants, and some the spontaneous production of the soil. The rose bushes, hyacinths, and lilies had been planted by the hand of man, the violets, the narcissus, and the pimpernel sprang naturally from the ground. There was shade for summer, flowers for spring, fruits for autumn, and for all seasons of the year enjoyment.

From this garden was to be had a fine view of the plains with the herds and flocks which grazed upon them; as well as of the sea, and of the ships, as they were sailing along, so that the prospect was no small portion of the beauty of the place. Exactly in the middle there was a temple and an altar, dedicated to Bacchus. An ivy encircled the altar, and a vine extended its branches round the temple; on the interior the events in the history of the god were represented. The delivery of Semele, Ariadne sleeping, Lycurgus fettered, Pentheus torn in pieces, the victories over the Indians, and the metamorphosis of the Tyrrhenian sailors. On all sides were Satyrs and Bacchantes dancing. Nor was Pan omitted; he was represented sitting upon a rock, and playing upon his pipe an air intended equally to regulate the motions of the men as they trod the grapes, and of the women as they danced.

Such was the garden, which Lamon was busy in getting into order, cutting away dead wood, and raising the branches of the vines. He crowned the statue of Bacchus with flowers, he conducted water from the fountain discovered by Daphnis, for the flowers, which was used exclusively for them, and was called Daphnis's Fountain. Lamon also charged the youth to get his goats into as good condition as possible, since their master would certainly visit and examine them after his long absence from the farm. Upon this head Daphnis felt confident that he should be praised; for the herd, which he had received in charge, was increased twofold: not one of them had been seized by a wolf, and they were already fatter than sheep. Wishing to do everything which might render his master favourable to his marriage, he exerted all his care and activity, driving them to pasture very early, and returning very late, leading them to the water twice every day, and choosing for them the richest pastures. He also took care to provide fresh bowls, many new milk-pails, and larger cheese-racks. Such was his attention to his goats, that he even oiled their horns, and curried their hair, and they might have been supposed to be the sacred herd of Pan. Chloe shared in all his toil, neglecting her own flock, that she might be of greater assistance to him, which caused Daphnis to attribute the beauty of his herd entirely to her.

While occupied in this manner, a second messenger came from the city, with orders for them to get in their vintage as soon as possible; he said he should remain there until they had made some of the new wine, after which he should return to Mitylene, and bring their master, at the end of the vintage season. Lamon and his family received Eudromus, the runner (for his name was derived from his employment) with a hearty welcome, and immediately began to strip the vines, to put the grapes in the vats, and the must in the casks; reserving some of the finest clusters with their branches, in order that those also who came out of the city might form some idea of the vintage, and its pleasures.

Before Eudromus departed, Daphnis made him various presents, and in addition such as are usually given by a goat-herd, such as some well-made cheeses, a young kid, a white shaggy goat-skin for him to wear when running on errands in the winter, and many things besides. He was greatly pleased with Daphnis and embraced him, promising to speak favourably of him to his master: with these friendly feelings he set out. Daphnis and Chloe were in a state of great anxiety. She felt no small fear when she reflected that a youth hitherto accustomed to see only his goats, the mountains, his fellow-labourers in the fields, and herself, was for the first time soon to behold his master, whom he had but recently known even by name. She was anxious to know how he would conduct himself in the presence of his betters; her mind was also filled with agitation respecting their marriage, fearing lest all their expected happiness might prove but a dream. Frequently did she and Daphnis kiss, and frequently did they cling in embraces as close as though they grew together; yet their kisses were alloyed by fear, and their embraces partook of sadness, as if afraid of the actual presence of their master, or as if endeavouring to avoid his eyes.

The following addition to their present troubles likewise took place.

There was a certain Lampis, a herdsman of overweening disposition; he also had been asking Chloe in marriage of Dryas, and had made many handsome presents to promote his chance of success. Being well aware, that if the master of the estate should give his consent, Daphnis would obtain her for his bride, he resolved to plan some scheme for setting Lamon's family at variance with their master; and knowing that the latter was particularly fond of a garden, he determined to injure it and destroy its beauty. He was aware that should he venture to cut down the trees, the noise would betray him, he determined therefore to vent his rage against the flowers, so waiting till it was dark, he climbed over the hedge, and like a wild-boar, rooted up some, broke others, and trampled upon every flower. Having done this, he went away unobserved. When Lamon came the next morning he was about to water his flowers with the streams which had been conducted from the fountain, but seeing the whole spot laid waste, and the damage of such a kind as some determined enemy or spiteful thief would have committed, he rent his clothes, and called loudly upon the gods, so that Myrtale threw down what she had in her hands, and ran out; while Daphnis, who was driving his herds to pasture, hurried back; and when they saw what had taken place, they uttered a loud shriek, and burst into tears.

It was in vain to lament the loss of their flowers, but they wept from dread of their master's anger; and had any stranger passed by he would have wept also, for the whole garden was dismantled: nothing remained but trampled clay The few flowers which here and there had escaped destruction showed by their brilliant hues how beautiful the garden must have been when in perfection. ?umbers of bees rested upon them, and with incessant buzzing seemed to lament their fate. Lamon, in his consternation, thus broke forth: "Alas! for my rose bushes, how are they broken! Alas! for my violets, how are they trodden under foot! Alas! for my narcissuses and hyacinths, which some mischievous villain has rooted up! The spring will return, but they will not put forth their buds! The summer will come, but they will not be in their full bloom! The autumn will arrive, but they will crown no one with garlands! And you, my protector, Bacchus, did not you deign to pity the flowers, among which you dwell, which daily you behold, and with which I have so often crowned your brows? How can I show this garden to my lord? When he sees it, what will be his feelings? He will hang his old servant, like a second Marsyas, on one of those pines:—and perhaps he will hang Daphnis, attributing the destruction of it to his goats!"

They ceased weeping for the flowers, and now wept for themselves. Chloe shed tears at the idea of Daphnis being hanged, and prayed that their master might never come. She passed days of wretchedness, fancying she saw Daphnis already suffering under the scourge.

Night was approaching when Eudromus returned, and informed them that their master would be with them in three days' time, but that his son would arrive next morning. They now began to deliberate what was to be done respecting the misfortune which had happened, and took Eudromus into their councils. Feeling a friendship for Daphnis, he advised them to relate the whole affair to their young master on his first arrival; he was his own foster-brother; on which account he had no small interest with him, and he promised to assist them in the matter.

On the following day they did as he had recommended. Astylus came on horseback: a fawning parasite, who always accompanied him, rode by his side. The former was but beginning to be bearded, but the chin of Gnatho had long since felt the razor's edge. Lamon, together with Myrtale and Daphnis, came out to meet them, and falling at his young master's feet, besought him to have mercy upon an unfortunate old man, and to avert his father's anger from one who was not to blame in any respect; at the same time relating to him all particulars. Astylus listened with great commiseration, and when he came to the garden, and saw the havoc which had been committed, he promised to plead their excuse with his father by laying the fault on his own horses, which, he would say, had been tethered there, but having become restive, had broken loose, and had trampled down, and destroyed the flowers.

Lamon and Myrtale invoked upon him every blessing. Daphnis, moreover, brought him as presents some kids, some cheese, some birds with their young, some vine-branches covered with grapes, and some apples still hanging on their boughs. Among his other gifts he presented some fragrant Lesbian wine, very choice in flavour.

Astylus expressed himself pleased with the offerings of Daphnis, and immediately betook himself to hare hunting, as was natural in a young man abounding in wealth, nursed in luxury, and who had come into the country merely for some change in his amusements.

Gnatho being a fellow whose whole science consisted in eating and drinking to excess, and who was nothing, in fact, but a compound of gluttony, drunkenness, and sensuality, had narrowly watched Daphnis as he was offering his presents. He was naturally fond of male beauty, and never having seen any one so handsome, even in town, he determined to make an attempt upon Daphnis, thinking easily to gain over a mere shepherd youth. Having formed this determination, instead of going to hunt with Astylus, he proceeded to the spot where Daphnis was feeding his flock, under pretence of looking at the goats, but in reality to gaze upon their master. In order to gain his goodwill, he began by praising the appearance of the animals, and requested him to play a pastoral tune upon his pipe, adding, that by his influence he could soon obtain his freedom. Having in this manner put him at his ease, he watched his opportunity, and when Daphnis was driving home his herd at night, he ran up and kissed him, and then went on to make proposals to him. For some time the youth did not understand his meaning, but when at last he did, he laid him prostrate with a blow; for he was in liquor, and hardly able to stand; and then left him sprawling, in need not of a boy whose beauty he might admire, but of a man to pick him up and lead him home. For the time to come Daphnis would hold no more communication with him, but constantly changed the place of pasturage for his goats, avoiding him, but keeping close to Chloe. Nor, to say the truth, was Gnatho very eager to renew his acquaintance, having found by personal experience that he was not only handsome in countenance but stalwart in arm; nevertheless he determined to watch for an opportunity of speaking to Astylus about him, and flattered himself that he should easily obtain him as a gift from a young man who was always ready to give largely, and upon all occasions.

Just then he could not carry out his plans, for Dionysophanes and Clearista arrived; and not small was the stir caused by their train of male and female servants, and their sumpter horses. Dionysophanes was of middle age, but tall and handsome; and one who would not suffer by comparison even with far younger men. In riches he had not many equals, in virtues he had none. On the first day of his arrival he sacrificed to the deities who preside over the country,—to Ceres, to Bacchus, to Pan, and to the Nymphs, and caused to be prepared one common bowl for all present. During the following day he inspected Lamon's labours, and when he saw the fields well ploughed, the flourishing condition of the vines, and the beauty of the garden (for Astylus had taken the blame about the flowers on himself), he was very much delighted, praised Lamon highly, and promised to give him his freedom. After going over the farm, he went to see the herds, and him who tended them.

Chloe fled to the woods: she was ashamed and frightened at the thought of appearing before so many strangers. Daphnis, however, stood still: he had on a shaggy goat-skin, a new scrip was suspended from his shoulder; in one hand he held some fresh cheeses, and with the other, two sucking kids. If ever Apollo tended the herds of Laomedon, his appearance must have been like that of Daphnis now. He did not say a word, but covered with blushes, hung down his head, and presented his offerings.

"This, Master (said Lamon), is the young man who has taken care of your goats. Fifty female, and two male goats were the number which I received from you: this youth has increased the former to a hundred, and the latter to ten. Observe how sound are their horns, how fat and long-haired they are in body. He has even made them musical; for all their movements are regulated by the pipe."

Clearista, who was present, and heard what was said, expressed a wish to see a proof of what he asserted, and desired Daphnis to pipe to his goats in his usual manner, promising him for his pains a tunic, a cloak, and a pair of sandals. Daphnis disposed the company in a semi-circle; then standing under the shade of a beech-tree, he took his pipe from his scrip, and breathed into it very gently. The goats stood still, merely lifting up their heads. Next he played the pasture-tune, on which they all put down their heads, and began to graze. Now he produced some notes, soft and sweet in tone:—at once all his herd lay down. After this he piped in a sharp key, and they ran off to the wood, as if a wolf were in sight. Within a short interval he played the recall, and immediately issuing from their covert, they ran to his very feet. Few domestic servants will be seen to obey their master so readily: all the company were astonished at his skill, but more particularly Clearista, who reiterated her promise of giving a reward to the handsome goatherd, who had shown such skill in music. The party, returning to the farm, went to dinner, and sent Daphnis a portion from their own table.

Daphnis shared the dainties with Chloe, and was delighted with the flavour of city cookery, and felt very sanguine of obtaining his master's consent and so of succeeding in his marriage.

Gnatho, still more captivated by this display of Daphnis's skill, and reckless of life unless he could effect his purpose, watched for Astylus as he was walking in the garden, and leading him to the temple of Bacchus, began to kiss his feet and hands.

Upon Astylus inquiring why he did this, urging him to speak out, and promising to grant his request, he replied, "It is all over with your old friend Gnatho; I who once cared only for the table; I who used to swear that nothing was better than generous old wine, and that your city cooks were better than all the comely youths of Mitylene,—now can find nothing handsome excepting Daphnis. I no longer relish, nor even taste the choice dishes which are daily prepared in such abundance, flesh, fish, and pastry; but would willingly be transformed into a goat and browse on grass and leaves, if only I could listen to the pipe of Daphnis, and be under his charge. Shew yourself then, my preserver, and enable me to triumph in my suit; if you refuse, I swear by Bacchus, that I will seize a dagger, and after eating until I can eat no longer, will stab myself before the door of Daphnis, and then you will no longer be able to call me your sweet Gnatty, as you are used to to do." The good-natured young man, who was no stranger to the power of love, moved by his blandishments and tears, promised to ask Daphnis of his father, under pretence of requiring him for a slave, but in reality to be the favourite of Gnatho. Then wishing to put him in good spirits he jokingly asked whether he was not ashamed of taking a fancy to a son of Lamon, a common goatherd; at the same time mimicking a feeling of disgust at rank and goatish smells.

Gnatho, who was well schooled in the love-tales of mythology, which he had heard at the tables of luxurious profligates, began to discourse very learnedly of the matters relating to himself and Daphnis.—"Lovers, my master, are not over nice; wheresoever they see beauty, they own its influence and succumb to it; some have fallen in love with a tree, some with a river, others with a wild beast,—now who would not commiserate a lover who stood in dread of the object of his love? I, however, am captivated by one who though a slave in his condition, is worthy of being a freeman as regards his beauty.

"His hair is like the hyacinth, and his eyes sparkle under his eye brows like gems set in a golden ring, his face is suffused with a rosy hue of health, his mouth displays teeth as white as ivory. Who would not wish to snatch a kiss from such a mouth? In taking a fancy to a shepherd I do but imitate the gods,—Anchises kept oxen and yet captivated Venus,—Branchius was a goatherd and Apollo loved him. Ganymede was a shepherd and was snatched away by Jupiter. Let us not think lightly of a youth, whose very goats obey him as though they were in love with him; and let us be thankful to the eagles for leaving such an impersonation of beauty upon earth." Astylus laughed heartily at hearing him talk thus, and saying that love made folks great orators, promised to take an opportunity of mentioning the subject of Daphnis to his father. Eudromus overheard their conversation, and immediately gave information of it to Daphnis and Lamon. He loved the young man because of his amiable disposition, and could not bear to think that so much beauty and worth should be subjected to Gnatho's drunken humours. Daphnis in his alarm determined either to fly from the country, taking Chloe with him, or to destroy himself and Chloe at the same time.

Lamon upon his part called Myrtale out of the house, and exclaimed, "? my dear wife, we are undone. It is time for us to discover what we have so long concealed. Our goats and all belonging to us will it is true now be deserted; but I swear by Pan, and the Nymphs, that even supposing I am myself to be left like an old ox in the stall (as the saying is), I will no longer keep the history of Daphnis a secret. I will tell how and where I found him exposed, I will explain how he was nursed, and will shew the tokens, which were placed with him. That rascally Gnatho shall know, to what manner of youth he, vile as he is, has taken a liking!—Take care to have everything in readiness!"

Having formed this resolution, they went into the house again. Astylus, in the mean time, proceeding to his father, when he happened to be disengaged, begged his permission to take Daphnis home with them on their return, alleging, that so beautiful a youth was too good for his present rustic situation, and would very soon under Gnatho's care acquire the polish of city manners. His father willingly complied with his request, and sending for Lamon and Myrtale, communicated to them as good news, that Daphnis would henceforth wait upon Astylus instead of tending goats, at the same time promising them two goatherds to supply his place. It was then, as the attendants were crowding round, and rejoicing to hear that they were to have among them so handsome a fellow-slave, that Lamon, having requested leave to speak, thus addressed his master. "Be pleased, master, to listen to an old man and hear the truth. I swear by Pan and the Nymphs, that I will not utter anything which is false.—I am not the father of Daphnis, nor was Myrtale so fortunate as to be his mother. The parents of this youth, whoever they were, exposed him in his infancy; perhaps, because, they had already more children than they knew how to maintain. I found him lying on the earth, and one of my she-goats nursing him. When she died, I buried her in the border of my garden, feeling a regard for her, inasmuch as she had done a mother's duty. I confess having found various tokens with the infant, which I still preserve; for they prove him to be born to a higher station than that which he now fills with me. I am not so high-minded as to slight the offer of his being an attendant on Astylus—an excellent servant to a virtuous and excellent master: but I cannot bear the idea of his being a sport for the drunken hours of Gnatho, who would fain take him to Mitylene, that he may be abused."

Lamon at the conclusion of this speech burst into tears. Gnatho began to bluster, and threatened to strike him, but Dionysophanes sternly frowning, ordered him to be silent; and again interrogating Lamon, urged him to tell the truth, and not to invent a tale merely to keep his son at home.—When Lamon continued unshaken in his assertions, called upon the gods to be his witnesses, and professed his readiness to submit to torture, should he be uttering a falsehood; his master, in the presence of Clearista, who sat by him, began to test the probability of the tale, as follows. "What motive can Lamon have to tell a falsehood, when two goatherds are offered him in lieu of one? How could a plain rustic possibly invent such a tale?—Besides, is it not altogether unlikely that such an old man and such a plain old woman can be the parents of so handsome a son."

He determined to rest no longer upon mere conjectures, but to examine the tokens, and to see whether they bespoke an illustrious birth. Myrtale had gone to fetch them, for they were preserved in an old bag. Dionysophanes was the first to examine them, and when he beheld the purple mantle, the golden clasp, and little sword with the ivory hilt, he exclaimed, Lord Jupiter! and called to Clearista to come and look at them.—When Clearista beheld them, she uttered a loud shriek, and cried out, "The friendly Fates, are not these the very things, which we exposed with our little one, when we sent Sophrosyne to leave him in this part of the country! they are none other, they are the very same, my husband! the child is ours. Daphnis is your son, and he has been tending his own father's flock."

Before she had done speaking, and while Dionysophanes was kissing the tokens and shedding tears of joy, Astylus, who now understood that Daphnis was his brother, threw off his cloak, and ran through the garden to give him the first salute. When Daphnis saw Astylus running towards him, followed by many others, and heard them calling out his own name, he thought they were coming to seize him and carry him off by violence. Accordingly he threw down his scrip, and his pipe, and ran towards the sea with the determined resolution to throw himself into it from the top of a high rock: and perhaps (strange to say!) his being found would have proved the occasion of his being lost for ever, had not Astylus perceiving the occasion of his alarm, called out, "Stop, stop, Daphnis, I am your brother: and they, who have hitherto been your masters, are now your parents. Lamon has just now given us the whole account of the she-goat, and has shewn us the tokens, which were found with you! look back! see! with what cheerful and smiling faces they are coming towards you! Brother, let me have the first kiss. I swear by the Nymphs, I am not deceiving you."

Not without hesitation was Daphnis induced after this solemn assertion to pause, and wait for Astylus, whom he received with a kiss. While they were embracing, his father and mother with Lamon and Myrtale and all the men and maid servants came thronging up, threw their arms round him, and kissed him with tears of joy. Daphnis affectionately saluted his father and mother before the rest and as though he had long known them, clasped them to his breast, and would not disengage himself from their embrace:—so soon does natural affection assert her rights.

For a time even Chloe was almost forgotten. After returning to the farm, and putting on a costly dress, he sat down by his real father, who spoke to the following effect.

"My children, I married when very young; and in a short space of time became as I considered myself a very fortunate father. First a son was born to me, next a daughter, and then you, my Astylus. I thought my family now large enough, for which reason I exposed Daphnis, the boy who was born in addition to the others, placing with him these ornaments, not as tokens, but to serve as funeral weeds.—Fortune had different plans in view.—My eldest son and daughter died of the same disease in one day: but the providence of the gods has preserved you, Daphnis, that we might have an additional stay in our old age.—Do not bear ill will towards me, from the remembrance of my having exposed you; for I did not do so with a willing mind, nor do you, Astylus, feel grieved that you will now have a part only, instead of the whole of my estate; for to a wise man no wealth is more valuable than a brother. Love each other;—and as for wealth you shall be able to vie even with princes. I shall leave to you extensive lands, a number of dexterous servants, stores of gold and silver, and whatever else forms the possession of the prosperous. Only this particular estate I reserve for Daphnis, with Lamon and Myrtale, and the goats which he himself has tended."

Before he had finished speaking, Daphnis sprang from his seat, and said, "Father, you very seasonably remind me of these matters. I will go and lead my goats to water, they must now be thirsty, and are no doubt waiting to hear my pipe, while I am sitting here." Every one laughed at hearing the master so willing to be still the goatherd. One of the servants was sent in place of Daphnis to tend the herd; while he and the rest of the company, after sacrificing to Jove the preserver, sat down together to a banquet. Gnatho was the only one who did not come to the entertainment; for being under great alarm, he remained all day and night in the temple of Bacchus, as a suppliant.

The report that Dionysophanes had found his son, and that Daphnis the goatherd was now master of the estate, having soon spread abroad, early the next morning numbers flocked to the cottage from various parts with congratulations to the youth and gifts to the father.—Dryas the foster-father of Chloe was among the first who arrived.

Dionysophanes kept them all, after sharing of his joy, to partake of an entertainment. Store of wine was provided, abundance of wheaten bread, wild fowl, sucking pigs, and sweets of various kinds, and many victims were sacrificed to the country's deities. Daphnis collected all his pastoral equipments, and distributed them in separate offerings to the gods. To Bacchus he presented his scrip, and coat of skin. To Pan his pipe and transverse-flute. To the Nymphs his crook, and the milkpails, which he had made with his own hands. The happiness arising from our wonted condition is however so much greater than that which springs from unexpected good fortune, that he could not refrain from tears when parting with each offering. He could not suspend his milkpails in the grotto without once more milking into them: nor his coat of skin without once more putting it on: nor his pipe without once more playing on it. He kissed each of them in turn; he talked to his goats and called them by their names; he drank from the fountain because he had so often done so in company with Chloe.—Still he did not yet venture to declare his love, but waited for a favourable opportunity.

While Daphnis was engaged in these religious ceremonies, the following circumstances befel Chloe. She was sitting weeping and watching her flock, and exclaiming (as was natural) "Daphnis has forgotten me. He is dreaming of some wealthy match. To what purpose did I make him swear by his goats instead of by the Nymphs? he has deserted the former as well as me; nor even when sacrificing to the Nymphs and to Pan, has he had any desire to see his Chloe. Perhaps among his mother's waiting women, he has seen some girl preferable to me. May he be happy! As for me I shall not survive it."

While she was giving utterance to these thoughts, Lampis the herdsman with a band of rustics suddenly came up and seized her. He conceived that Daphnis would no longer marry her, and that Dryas would be well content to have him as a son-in-law. While she was being borne off with tears and shrieks, some one who had witnessed the transaction, hastened to inform Nape: Nape informed Dryas, and Dryas communicated it to Daphnis. Distracted at the intelligence, afraid to explain the circumstance to his father, and unable to restrain his own emotions, he betook himself to the outer garden-walk and there vented his grief:—

"What an unhappy discovery of parentage, is mine! How much better would it have been for me still to tend my herds! How much happier was I, when a slave! then I could behold my Chloe!—but now, Lampis has carried her away; this very night, perhaps, she will be his wife! In the mean time I am here, drinking and feasting, and have to no purpose sworn by Pan, by my goats, and by the Nymphs."

These words were overheard by Gnatho, who was lurking in the garden; he considered it a good opportunity for effecting a reconciliation with Daphnis. Assembling some youths, who waited upon Astylus, he pursued Dryas, whom he desired to conduct them to the place where Lampis dwelt. They overtook him just as he was dragging Chloe into his house, rescued her from him, and gave the country-fellows, his companions, a sound drubbing. He was very desirous also to seize and bind Lampis, and bring him back like a prisoner of war, but the fellow was too much for him and ran away.

Having accomplished this exploit, he returned just as night was coming on. Dionysophanes had already retired to rest; but finding Daphnis still up and weeping in the garden, presented Chloe to him, and gave him an account of the whole adventure, beseeching him to bear no ill-will, but to retain him in his service, in which he would prove himself of use, and not to banish him from his father's table, which would deprive him of his bread. When Daphnis saw Chloe, and once more had her in his possession, he forgave Gnatho, because of his good deed, and began to apologize to the maiden for his neglect.

Upon holding a consultation, Daphnis at first resolved to marry Chloe privately, and to keep her in concealment, making no one but her own mother acquainted with the matter; Dryas would not concur in this plan, he was for communicating every thing to Daphnis's father, and himself undertook the task of obtaining his consent. Accordingly, taking the tokens with him in his scrip, he went the next day to Dionysophanes and Clearista, who were sitting in the garden, in company with Astylus and Daphnis; silence ensued upon his appearance, when he addressed them thus:—

"The same necessity, which influenced Lamon, now urges me to publish circumstances, which hitherto have remained secret. I am not Chloe's father; nor was she in the first instance brought up by me. Other persons were her parents, and when lying in the grotto of the Nymphs, a ewe became her nurse. I saw this myself, to my astonishment, and under the power of this feeling, I adopted her. Her beauty confirms what I say; for she does not resemble either me or my wife. These tokens, which I likewise found with her, prove the truth of my assertion, for they are too valuable to belong to any shepherd. Examine them, endeavour to find out the maiden's relatives, and perhaps she will prove worthy of your son."

This last expression was not thrown out undesignedly by Dryas: nor was it heard heedlessly by Dionysophanes, who turning his eyes upon Daphnis, and observing him turn pale, while a tear stole down his cheeks, easily discovered the youth's love. Moved more by regard for his own child than by any concern for the unknown maiden, he weighed the words of Dryas with great attention. After viewing the tokens produced before him, the gilt sandals, the anklets, and the head-dress, he called Chloe to him, and bid her take courage, for she had already got a husband, and most probably would soon discover her real father and mother. Clearista now took her, and dressed her as became the intended wife of her son. Dionysophanes, in the mean time, retired apart with Daphnis, and inquired whether she was still a virgin; and upon his declaring that nothing had passed between them, beyond kisses and vows: pleased with their mutual oaths of fidelity, he made them join the banquet.

Now might it be seen what beauty is when set off by the accessories of ornament, Chloe when richly dressed, with her hair braided, and her face resplendent from the bath, appeared to all so much more beautiful than before, that Daphnis himself could hardly recognize her. Any spectator, even without knowing anything about the tokens, would have sworn that Dryas could not be the father of so fair a maiden. Nevertheless he was invited to the feast, where he and Nape, with Lamon and Myrtale for their companions, reclined on a separate couch.

On the following day victims were again sacrificed to the gods; bowls were prepared, and Chloe suspended her pastoral equipments—her pipe, her scrip, her cloak of goat-skin, and her milkpails. She also mingled wine with the waters of the fountain in the grotto, because she had been suckled near it, and had so often bathed there, then she crowned with flowers the ewe's grave, which Dryas pointed out to her. She, too, piped once more to her flock, and having done so, prayed the Nymphs that her parents might prove worthy of the union of Daphnis and herself.

When the party had had enough of their rural festivities, they determined upon returning to the city, in order to try and discover Chloe's parents, and no longer to defer the marriage. By break of day the next morning they were prepared for their journey. Before their departure they made Dryas a present of another three thousand drachmas; with liberty to reap half the corn, and gather half the grapes annually for his own use; they likewise gave him the goats, goatherds, four yoke of oxen, and some winter garments; his wife also was presented with her freedom.

After this they took the road to Mitylene, travelling in grand style with horses and carriages. They arrived at the city by night, and so for the time escaped the notice of the citizens; but early the next day the doors were surrounded by multitudes of men and women. The men congratulated Dionysophanes on having found his son, the more particularly when they saw his beauty. The women gave Clearista joy at bringing with her not only her son, but likewise an intended bride. Chloe excited the admiration even of the women, displaying as she did, charms which could not be surpassed. The whole city was in a bustle on account of the youth and the maiden, predicting already that the marriage would be a happy one, and wishing that the parents of the maiden might prove to be of a rank worthy of her beauty. Many of the richest ladies prayed the gods that they might be reputed to be the mothers of so much loveliness.

Dionysophanes, fatigued with excess of anxious thought, fell into a deep sleep, during which he saw the following vision. The Nymphs appeared to be requesting the god of love at length to grant them his consent to the celebration of the marriage. Slackening the string of his bow, and placing it by the side of his quiver, he addressed Dionysophanes, bidding him to invite those of highest rank of Mitylene to a banquet, and when he had filled the last goblet, to exhibit the tokens before each of them, and then to commence the hymeneal song. After what he had seen and heard, Dionysophanes arose in the morning, and ordered a magnificent feast to be prepared, in which all the delicacies which the sea, the earth, the lakes, and even the rivers could produce, were to be collected together. All the chiefs of Mitylene were his guests. When night was come, and when the goblet was filled from which to pour out the libation to Mercury, a slave brought forward the ornaments in a silver vase, and holding them in his right hand carried them round, and displayed them to all the visitors. No one acknowledged them, till Megacles, who, on account of his age, was honoured with the highest couch, recognising them, cried out with a loud and animated voice,—"What do I see! what has been the fate of my daughter! is she indeed alive? or did some shepherd find these things, and carry them away. Tell me, I pray, Dionysophanes, where did you meet with these tokens of my child? Now that you have found your son, do not enviously begrudge me the discovery of my daughter."

Dionysophanes requested him first of all to give them an account of the exposure of his daughter; and Megacles in the same loud and earnest tone replied,—"Formerly my income was very narrow, for I had expended my fortune in equipping choruses and fitting out galleys. While my affairs were in this condition I had a daughter born. Loath to bring her up to the miseries of poverty, and knowing that there are many who are willing to become even reputed parents, I dressed her in these very tokens, and exposed her. She was laid in the grotto of the Nymphs, and committed to their protection. Since that time wealth began to pour in upon me every day, when I had no heir to enjoy it, for I was never so fortunate as to become the father even of another daughter; but, as if wishing to make a mock of me, the gods are continually sending dreams by night, signifying, forsooth, that a ewe will make me father."

Upon this Dionysophanes called out in a yet louder tone than Megacles, and springing from his couch led in Chloe sumptuously dressed, exclaiming,—"This is the child whom you exposed. This maiden, through the providence of the gods, was suckled by a sheep, and preserved for you; as Daphnis was reared by a goat, and saved for me. Take the tokens, and your daughter; take her, and bestow her as a bride on Daphnis. Both were exposed; both have been again found by us, their parents; both have been under the peculiar care of Pan, of the Nymphs, and of the God of Love."

Megacles at once assented, clasped Chloe to his bosom, and sent for his wife Rhode. They slept at the house that night, for Daphnis had sworn by the gods that he would not part with Chloe even to her own father.

The next morning they all agreed to return to the country: this was done at the entreaty of Daphnis and Chloe, who were weary of their sojourn in the city; and had formed a scheme for celebrating their nuptials in a pastoral manner.

Upon their arrival at Lamon's cottage, they introduced Dryas to Megacles, and Nape was made known to Rhode, after which the preparations were made for the festival on a splendid scale. Chloe was devoted to the guardianship of the Nymphs by her father. He suspended the tokens, among various other things, as offerings to them; and increased the six thousand drachmas, which Dryas now possessed, to ten thousand.

As the day was very fine, Dionysophanes caused couches of green leaves to be spread inside the grotto, and all the villagers were invited and sumptuously regaled. There were present Lamon and Myrtale, Dryas and Nape, Dorco's kinsmen, and Philetas with his sons Chromis and LycŠnium; even Lampis, who had been forgiven, was among the guests. All the amusements were, of course, as among such merrymakers, of a rustic and pastoral kind. Reaping-songs were sung; and the jokes of the vintage-season were repeated. Philetas played on the pipe, and Lampis on the flute, while Lamon and Dryas danced. Chloe and Daphnis passed the time in kissing. The goats came and grazed near them, as if they also were partakers of the festival. This was not very agreeable to the dainty city folks; Daphnis, however, called several of them by name, gave them some leaves, which they eat out of his hand, while he held them by the horns, and kissed them.

Not only now, but during the remainder of their days, Daphnis and Chloe led a pastoral life, worshipping as their deities the Nymphs, Pan, and the God of Love. Their flocks of goats and sheep were numerous, and their favourite food consisted of the fruits of autumn, and milk. They had their first-born, a boy, suckled by a goat; their second, a girl, was brought up by a ewe; the former was named Philopťmen, the latter Agele. In this manner of life, and in this spot, they lived to a good old age. They adorned the grotto of the Nymphs; erected statues; raised an altar to Cupid the Shepherd; and instead of a pine reared a temple for the habitation of Pan, and dedicated it to Pan the Warrior; these names, however, were given, and these things done, in after years. At the time we are now speaking of, when night arrived, all the guests conducted them to the bridal chamber, some playing on the pipe, some on the flute, some holding large torches; and upon arriving at the door, they raised their voices in harsh and rugged tones, which sounded more like a concert of fellows breaking up the ground with mattocks than a chorus of human beings singing the nuptial hymn. Daphnis and Chloe, on their part, went to bed in nature's own adornment, where they kissed and embraced each other, and were as wakeful as the very owls. Daphnis carried into practice the instructions of his preceptress LycŠnium, and Chloe learnt, for the first time in her life, that all their doings in the woods had been but so much child's play.

End of Daphnis And Chloe by Longus