Sed cum Gallorum fines et arnica tuetur
Arva, Caledonia cuspide fossus obit.
Cannot the poet have written Caledonia for the sake of the quantity? In 1346, Edward was at war with Robert Bruce[624], and the Scotch were Philip's[625] allies.
The death of the blind John of Bohemia, at Crécy, is one of the most heroic and touching adventures of chivalry. John wanted to go to the assistance of his son Charles; he said to his companions:
"My lords, you are my friends; I call upon you to lead me so far forwards that I may strike a blow with my sword."
"They replied that gladly would they do so.... The King of Bohemia went so far forwards that he struck a blow with his sword, indeed more than four, and combated most vigorously, and so did they of his company; and so much forward they pushed against the English that all remained there and were on the morrow found on the field around their lord, and all the horses tied together."
Few people know that John of Bohemia was buried at Montargis, in the church of the Dominicans, and that on his tomb one used to read this remnant of an obliterated inscription:
"He died at the head of his attendants, together recommending them to God the Father. Pray to God for that sweet King."
May this remembrance of a Frenchman expiate the ingratitude of France, when, in the days of our new calamities, we appalled Heaven by our sacrilege and cast out of his tomb a Prince who died for us in the days of our old misfortunes!
At Carlsbad, the chronicles relate that, Charles IV., the son of King John, having gone out hunting, one of his hounds, darting after a deer, fell from the top of a hill into a bason of boiling water. Its howls caused the huntsmen to hurry in its direction and the source of the Sprudel was discovered. A hog which scalded itself in the waters of Teplitz showed them to the herdsmen.
Such are the traditions of Germania. I have been to Corinth: the ruins of the temple of the courtesans were dispersed over the ashes of Glycera; but the fountain of Pyrene, which sprang from the tears of a nymph, still flowed among the oleanders through which Pegasus flew in the times of the Muses. The waters of a port without ships bathed fallen columns whose capitals lay steeped in the sea, like heads of drowned girls stretched upon the sands; the myrtle had grown in their hair and replaced the acanthus leaves: there you have the traditions of Greece.