We read in a poem of the fourteenth century, entitled The vow on the heron, "In the season when summer is verging upon its decline, and the gay birds are forgetting their sweet converse on the trees, now despoiled of their verdure, Robert seeks for consolation in the pleasures of fowling, for he cannot forget the gentle land of France, the glorious country whence he is an exile.

He carries a falcon, which goes flying over the waters till a heron falls its prey; then he calls two young damsels to take the bird to the king's palace, singing the while in sweet discourse: 'Fly, fly, ye honorless knights; give place to gallants on whom love smiles; here is the dish for gallants who are faithful to their mistresses.

The heron is the most timid of birds, for it fears its own shadow; it is for the heron to receive the vows of King Edward, who, though lawful King of France, dares not claim that noble heritage.' At these words the king flushed, his heart was wroth, and he cried aloud, 'Since coward is thrown in my teeth, I make vow [on this heron] to the God of Paradise that ere a single year rolls by I will defy the King of Paris.' Count Robert hears and smiles; and low to his own heart he says, 'Now have I won: and my heron will cause a great war.'" Robert's confidence in this tempter's work of his was well founded, but a little premature.

Edward III.

did not repel him; complained loudly of the assistance rendered by the King of France to the Scots; gave an absolute refusal to Philip's demands for the extradition of the rebel Robert, and retorted by protesting, in his turn, against the reception accorded in France to David Bruce, the rival of his own favorite Baliol for the throne of Scotland.