"This is indeed a terrible punishment for so slight an offence as ridiculing a stranger," the people of Lycia said to each other as they visited the pools and rivers during the seasons that followed and listened to the continual, hoarse croaking of the frogs. The river god, Peneus, knew them also and so did the lovely nymph, Daphne, his daughter, who was never happier than when she was flying on her fairy like feet, her soft green garments fluttering about her, along the edge of some stream. Daphne was more like a spirit of the woods than a girl. She would rather live within the shadow of leaves than under a palace roof, and she liked better to follow the deer and gather wild flowers than to have any intercourse with the boys and girls of the villages. But she was unmatched by the most beautiful daughter of all Greece, her long hair flung loose like a veil over her shoulders, her eyes as soft and shining as stars, and her body as graceful and well moulded as some rare vase. At that time a strange youth was seen to haunt the forests and banks of the river god. He was as fair and well shaped as Daphne, and there was also something unusual about him. Whenever he was seen, there seemed to be more light along the paths where he walked. He made the daytime brighter and the gold rays of the sun shine more gloriously. When this youth stopped for a while with a shepherd, no wolves attacked the flock, and he kept herds safe from the mountain lions. He had made a lyre for himself, a musical instrument of many tuneful strings that had not been heard in Greece before. He was touching the strings into a song about the pastures and the woods in the spring one day when he suddenly saw the nymph, Daphne. He had seen her before moving like a green bough blown by the wind along the shores of many waters. He thought that he had never seen so beautiful a creature or one so much to be desired, but whenever Daphne caught a glimpse of this strange, strong youth, she was frightened and was at once off and away. Now, though, he was determined to pursue Daphne and catch her. He dropped his lyre and ran after her, but she eluded him, running more swiftly than the wind. "Stay, daughter of Peneus," he called. "Do not fly from me as a dove flies from a hawk. I am no rude peasant, but one of the gods and I know all things, present or future. It is for love that I pursue you, and I am miserable in the fear that you may fall and hurt yourself on these stones and I shall have been the cause of your hurt. Pray run slower and I will follow more slowly!" But Daphne was deaf to the youth's entreating words. On she sped, the wind blowing her green garments, and her hair streaming loosely behind her. It was, at last, like the fleet running hound pursuing the hare; the youth was swifter and gained on her. His panting breath touched her neck. In her terror she did not stop to understand that he pursued her only because he loved her so much and that he would not do her any harm.