Lost to our view that ancient Cross, so fair,
Its timeless fate full oft we must deplore;
Regret shall breathe her murmurs in the air,
And anger loud her rage indignant pour.

Thence knights of shire exhausted oft their breath,
And thence the rising senator was nam'd;
From thence 'twas told when monarchs sunk in death,
But now, alas! no more the relic 's fam'd.

Proud of the produce of their native soil,
There Ceres' sons displayed the golden grain,
Courting the meed of industry and toil,

The farmer's honest recompense of gain.

Tried and condemn'd, without judicial form,
While modern structure o'er antique prevails;
That kind asylum from the wintry storm
The hand of " brief authority" assails.

No more the traveller shall its dome admire,
Its patron goddess with her scales and sword;
With Wolsey's gate no more its name aspire;
Nor to the moralist a theme afford.

From forth its canopy no more shall sound
The trump of war, with terror's fierce acclaim;
Nor pomp heraldic scatter pleasure round,

And to the joyous crowd sweet peace proclaim.

Peace to its manes! doom'd no more to live,
Unless in memory's ever-fading page;
The mournful muse this verse alone can give,
A feeble record for remoter age.

An Heroic Epistle

FROM

WILLIAM DE LA POLE, duke of suffolk,

TO MARGARET,

THE QUEEN OF HENRY THE VI.

William De La Pole, Duke of Suffolk, was a brave and skilful officer, and during the latter part of the glorious reign of Henry the Vth. served with much reputation in the wars of France, and was made a Knight of the Garter. Upon the death of that king, he was left in France with the Earl of Salisbury, for the defence of the English acquisitions there; and in 1424, upon the taking of the city of Maine, was made governor thereof. In 1442, in consideration of his manifold services, he obtained a grant to himself, Alice his wife, and their issue male, in reversion, of the Earldom of Pembroke, in case Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, should die without issue male. In 1444, he was created Marquis of Suffolk; and obtained a grant to himself, his wife and the heirs of their bodies of the manors of Nedging, and Kettlebaston, to hold by the service of carrying a golden sceptre, with a dove on its head, upon the coronation-day of the king's heirs and successors; as also another sceptre of ivory, with a golden dove on its head, upon the day of the coronation of the then queen, and all other queens of England, in time to come. In 1443, he was sent over to France, apparently to settle the terms of a truce, which had then been begun, but in reality to procure a suitable match for the king. The princess, selected to be the partner of his throne, was Margaret of Anjou, the daughter of Regnier, titular king of Sicily. The treaty of marriage having been soon brought to a conclusion

by Suffolk, he was sent as the king's proxy to espouse the princess, and conduct her to England. He enjoyed ever afterwards a high degree of favor with the queen, through whose means he was made Lord Chamberlain, Lord High Admiral, and raised to the dignity of Duke of Suffolk. This nobleman is accused of having been concerned, with the Cardinal of Winchester, in the murder of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester; and after the death of the Cardinal, governed every thing with uncontrolled sway. His conduct soon excited the jealousy of the other nobility; and every odious and unsuccessful measure was attributed to him. He was charged with mismanagement; waste of the public treasure; the foul murder of the duke; and the loss of divers provinces in France; with many other high crimes and misdemeanours; for which he was committed to the Tower; and though the queen interposed and effected his release, yet the popular resentment against him was so strong, that the king, to skreen him as much as possible, sentenced him to five years banishment. This was considered by his enemies as an escape from justice; and when the Duke left his castle at Wing field, and embarked at Ipswich, with an intention to sail to France, the captain of a vessel was employed to intercept him in his passage. Being seized near Dover, his head was struck off on the gunwale of a boat in 1449, and his body thrown into the sea; but being cast on shore, it was removed to Wingfield, and interred in the chancel of the collegiate church, where under a purfled arch with a bouquet on the point, and a quatrefoil in the pediment on a freestone altar-tomb is his recumbent figure in stone with whiskers, pointed helmet, gorget of mail, gauntlets, square-toed shoes, a lion at his feet

and under his head a helmet without a crest. On the front of the tomb are four plain quatrefoils with shields.

It is recorded of the Duke, that when his father and three brothers had lost their lives in the service of their country, in the wars with France, he spent thirty years in the same campaign, and for seventeen years never returned home. Once he was taken prisoner, whilst

only a knight, and paid £20,000 for his ransom; fifteen years was he a privy counsellor, and thirty years a knight of the garter. He married Alice, the widow of Sir John Philip, knt. and the daughter of Thomas Chaucer of Ewelme and Donington in Oxfordshire, the son of Goeffery Chaucer, the famous poet, by whom he obtained vast possessions.

In the "Paston Letters" are three written by this Duke, Vol. 1. pp. 32. 39. For an account of the Family and Monuments at Wing field, see "Gough's Sepulchral "Monuments, Pt. 2. p. 249."

In the chancel of the church of Wingfield are some noble monuments of the De La Poles, whose arms adorn the font, the east window, and the pulpit.

About a quarter of a mile north west of the church are the remains of the castle, built by Michael De La Pole, the 1st Earl of Suffolk, whose arms, with those of Wing field, cut in stone, remain on each side of the entrance. It stands low, without any out-works for its defence. The south front, or principal entrance, is still entire.

By the marriage of Catherine, the daughter and heir of Sir John Wing field to Michael De La Pole, the 1st Earl of Suffolk, this manor and the extensive estates attached to it were carried into that noble family, in which it continued for several generations. While in their possession, they obtained a licence to convert the manor-house into a castle, and to inclose and impark all the woods and lands belonging to it.

Against the south wall of the chancel is hung a pedigree of the De La Poles, neatly written on parchment, with their arms beautifully emblazoned; and to which is prefixed the following title: "An exact account of the most noble Family of the De La Poles, from their first settling at Wingfield, until the extinction of the Family, collected by Wm. Bedford, M. A. appointed and licensed Curate of Wing field, April 26th, 1684, by Anthony, Lord Bishop of Norwich; and confirmed in the same by Wm. Lord Bishop of Norwich, and after by Jno. Lord Bishop of Norw. and after confirm ed in the same by Chs. Lord Bishop of Norwich. this

Monumental Table was drawn and fix'd up here by the said Wm. Bedford: July 14th. 1701. and since transcribed by Thomas Folkard: July 22d. 1725."

The Duke is supposed to have written the following Letter to his paramour, Q. Margaret, a little before his death. The incidents are chiefly taken from the First and Second Parts of Shakespeare's historical play of Henry the VIth.

OH Royal Margaret, from the Kentish strand
Receive these tokens of thy Suffolk's hand,
And may kind love the sacred charge convey,
And love-born zephyrs waft it on its way
To thee, thou pride, thou pleasure of my life,
Thou more than friend, than sister, or than wife!
At this sad hour, left friendless and alone,
With my lost greatness all my friends are flown.
Ah, fickle greatness! and ah, friends unkind!
Faith, friendship, duty, vanish into wind!
Say, will my pen prove faithful to my woes,
And the sad story of my grief disclose,
This last sad scene of all my sorrows tell,
And bid the darling of my soul farewell?

When pass'd the dread decree that bade me roam,
For five long years, an exile from my home ;
And when Oppression, sanctifi'd by Might,
And Rapine, hallow'd by the name of Right,
Had seiz'd with impious hand my fair domains,
My native forests, and paternal plains ;

And when keen Malice, watchful to destroy,
Raz'd my proud domes, once fill'd with mirth and joy;
Firm and unmov'd the dreadful tale I hear,

Nor think the mighty ruin worth a tear.
Lamp of my life! I shed for thee alone

The frequent tear, and heav'd the ceaseless groan.