Poliphilo's Strife of Love in a Dream

...faint and languid. Beneath a rough and very old oak original: "ueterrima quercia", heavy with cup-shaped or tufted acorns—the kind despised by those in fertile Chaonia original: "Chaonia"; a region in Greece famous for the ancient prophetic oak groves of Dodona. The author suggests these acorns are so common they are undervalued there.—in the middle of a spacious and grassy meadow, its thick branches spreading wide to cast a fresh shade, I laid myself down upon the dewy grass beside its hollow trunk. Lying there restfully on my left side, I drew in the cool breezes with my thinning breath, more and more frequently with trembling lips.

I was like a weary Stag original: "Ceruo" that has been hunted and bitten on its flanks by fierce, snapping dogs, wounded in the chest by an arrow, leaning its heavy head and branching antlers against its weak back; finally, unable to stand any longer, it collapses, exhausted and dying, upon its failing knees.

As I lay there in a similar state of agony, I turned over in my mind the most intricate misfortunes of hellish fate and the enchantments of the wicked Circe, wondering if I had perhaps been ensnared by her verses or if the magic wheel original: "Rhombo"; a spinning tool used in ancient Greek sorcery to cast spells or restore lost love. had been used against me. Amidst these many mounting terrors, I cried out, "Alas! Where could I find the medicinal Moly of Mercury original: "Mercuriale Moly"; the magical herb with a black root given by the god Hermes to Odysseus to protect him from Circe’s magic. here among these various plants to serve as my aid and remedy?" Then I said to myself, "This is not that. What is this, then, if not a malignant delay of my longed-for death?"

Staying thus in these ruinous agitations, my strengths were fading bit by bit. I could think of no other salvation than to frequently and diligently drink in the fresh air, warming it in my chest where a tiny spark of vital heat still beat, and then exhaling it from my parched throat. Finding myself in no other state than half-dead, I took up the damp, dew-covered leaves sheltered beneath the leafy oak as a final refreshment. I pressed them to my pale and rough lips with the utmost greed, licking the moisture from them to quench my thirst and cool my parched throat original: "siticuloſa uuea"; literally "thirsty uvula." a little.

I wished then for Hypsipyle original: "Hypsipyle"; in mythology, she guided the thirsty Greek army to the spring of Langia. to appear and show me a spring, as she once did with the fountain of Langia for the Greeks. For I anxiously suspected that perhaps, while wandering unawares in the vast forest, I had been bitten by the Dipsas serpent original: "ſerpa Dipſa"; a mythical snake whose bite was said to cause an unquenchable, fatal thirst., so unbearable was my craving for water.

Finally, having renounced and given up on my tedious life, and resigning myself to whatever might happen, I was stunned and alienated by these heavy thoughts, wavering as if in a daze. Once again, beneath the shade of this oak—luxuriant with the wide darkness of its branches—I was oppressed by a heavy sleep. As a sweet slumber spread through my limbs, it seemed to me that I fell asleep once more.