[BOOK II.]
It was now the middle of autumn:—the vintage[1] was at hand, and every one was busy in the fields. One[2] 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[3] 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.