6
I myself never saw anyone so affected and I pray I may never see a human being tormented in this way; but then I have never set foot in Libya, I am glad to say. I have heard of an inscription which one of my friends said he himself had read on the tombstone of a man who had died in this way. He said that on a journey from Libya to Egypt his route passed the great Syrtis gulf, the only way he could go. There on the shore right by the water’s edge he found a grave with a stone on it revealing the manner of death. There was a man carved on it looking like Tantalus in the paintings, standing in a lake and scooping up water, obviously to drink it, with the animal, a dipsad, wound round his foot clinging tight; a number of women were fetching water and pouring it over him together. Nearby lay eggs of the ostriches which I said the Garamantes hunted. There was also the inscription, which I may as well add: Such were the sufferings, methinks, of Tantalus too, Never to still hot venom’s racking thirst, Such the jar Danaïd maids ne’er filled, Though ever drawing water with unending toil of carrying. There are four more lines about the eggs and how he was bitten as he took them, but I can no longer remember them.
7
The neighbouring tribes collect these eggs and prize them, not only for eating. They use the empty shells for utensils and make cups from them (they cannot work in earthenware because the earth is all sand). Any big egg they come across is made into two caps, either half being big enough to fit a man’s head.
8
It is there then that the dipsads lie in wait hard by the eggs. When someone approaches they creep out of the sand and bite the poor fellow. Then follow the torments I mentioned just now—continual drinking, increasing thirst without relief.
