The Dipsads

​The sons of physicians say that this is the reason: that the venom, being thick, then being moistened by the drink, becomes fast-moving, becoming naturally more liquid and spreading very widely.

​I indeed have seen no one who has suffered this, and, O gods, may I never see a man thus punished! Indeed, I have not even set foot in Libya at all, and a good thing too. But I heard of a certain inscription, which one of my companions told me he himself had read on the tombstone of a man who died in this way. He said that, departing from Libya for Egypt, he made his journey along the Great Syrtis; for there was no other way. There indeed he encountered a grave along the shore at the very water’s edge, and a tombstone stood upon it showing the manner of his destruction. For upon it was carved a certain man, like the Tantalus whom painters depict, standing in a lake and drawing up water as if indeed he were about to drink, while the beast—the dipsas—clinging to him, was coiled around his foot, and several women carrying water were at the same time pouring the water over him. Nearby lay eggs like those of the ostriches which I said the Garamantes hunt. And there was written in addition the epigram—and it is no bad thing to quote it: “Such sufferings, I believe, even Tantalus endured, and the fiery venom never allowed him to soothe his thirsty pain. And the daughters of Danaus did not fill such a jar, forever drawing water with water-bearing labor.” There are still four other verses about the eggs, and how he was bitten while picking them up, but I no longer remember them.

​And indeed the neighbors collect the eggs and are eager about them, not only to eat them, but having emptied them, they also use them as vessels and make drinking cups of them; for they have no pottery because the land is sand. And if large ones should be found, even two hats are made from each egg; for each half-section, being sufficient for the head, is a hat.

​There indeed the dipsades lie in wait by the eggs, and when a man approaches, creeping out of the sand they bite the unfortunate man; and he suffers those things mentioned a little before, always drinking and thirsting the more, and never being satisfied.

​These things, by Zeus, I have not detailed out of rivalry with the poet Nicander, nor so that you might learn that it has not been neglected by me to know the natures of Libyan reptiles. For that praise would rather belong to physicians, who must know these things so that they may also be able to ward them off with their art. But I seem to myself—and by the god of friendship do not be displeased by the image, since it is beastly—to suffer something similar myself towards you to what those bitten by the dipsas suffer towards the drink. For the more I come forward to you, the more I long for the thing, and an unmanageable thirst is kindled in me, and I seem never to be satisfied with such a drink. Quite naturally; for where else could I encounter such transparent and pure water? Therefore, forgive me if, bitten myself in my soul by this most pleasant and healthy bite, I drink greedily, putting my head under the spring. May it only be that the streams flowing from you do not fail, nor, when the eagerness of your listening is poured out, leave me still gaping and thirsty. For as far as my thirst for you is concerned, nothing would prevent me from drinking forever; for according to the wise Plato, there is no satiety of beautiful things.