When daring Delabreth in wanton pride
The warlike Henry's way-worn troop defied?
But all this gallant trim and rich array

Lay soil'd in dust, when Bedford's burnish'd spear
Flam'd in their front, and thunder'd in their rear,
And York's bright blade hew'd out his dreadfull way.
Rouze, royal England, rouze thy matchless might,
And with a dragon's flight

Sweep o'er th' ensanguin'd plains of Agincourt:
And see, thy Wodehouse, whose strong arm subdued
The ruin'd bulwarks of yon' aged fort,

His golden chev'ron charg'd with drops of blood,
Rest on the woodmen wild that bear his shield,
And hails thee victor of the well-fought field!
Can I forget how blythe my eddies roll'd

And kiss'd their crisp'd banks, when to Tewkesbury's plain

My gallant son + led his heroic train,

Stout Earls, and princely Dukes, and Barons bold?
Yet, ah for pity! these fierce hostings cease,
That maiden blossom wears the badge of peace,

For this gallant action Henry V. as a perpetual augmentation of honour, assigned him the crest of an hand, stretched froin a cloud, holding a club, and this motto, FRAPPE FORTE: and the savage, or wild man holding a club, which was the antient crest of the family, was now omitted, and two of them placed as supporters to the arms, which had a further augmentation of honour added in the shield, viz. on the Chev'ron Gutté de Sang, as they are borne to this day.

Sir Edward Wodehouse, who was knighted at Tewkesbury, attended Edward IV. into the north with two hundred men at arms, furnished at his own charge; being accompanied in his own retinue with two Dukes, seven Earls, thirty-one Barons, and fiftynine Knights. Blomefield, from the Pedigree.

The white rose of Plantagenet.

And will you dye her white leaves red in blood?
But if your martial courage pricks you forth,
See where the prowling pilferers of the north
With inroad foul o'er Tine's forbidden flood
Rush from their bleak hills, lur'd with scent of prey:
Brook they your firm array?

Far humbler thoughts on Eske's embattail'd banks
They learn'd, as Somerset's victorious spear
With foul disorder broke their bleeding ranks,
Whilst vengefull Wodehouse taught their proud hearts
fear,

And bade his thunders tell them, as they fled,
The brother triumphs where the brother bled.
But not on camps and fighting fields alone
My glory rests; when turtle-pennon'd Peace
Hush'd War's harsh roar, and bade its fury cease,
In these lov'd shades her softest lustre shone.
Here heav'n-rapt Piety delights to dwell,
Train'd in monastic Flitcham's holy cell;

Here plants her palm, whose hallow'd branches spread
O'er tow'red Richmond's consecrated shrine,
And form'd the holy wreath e'er taught to twine
Round desolate ‡ Caernarvon's hapless head.

E'en that strong || arm, which stretching from a cloud
Crests the atcheivement proud

Sir William Wodehouse was Vice-Admiral of the English fleet, and knighted for his noble service in the battle of Musselborough, where his elder brother Thomas was killed, A. D. 1547.

+ Sir William de Wodehouse founded the monastery at Flitcham, and made a cell to Walsingham, about A. D. 1260.

Robert de Wodehouse, a younger brother, was Archdeacon of Richmond, and Chaplain to Edward II.

See note relating to the crest and atchievement of the family: the motto on the shield is AGINCOURT,

Imprest with Agincourt's emblazon'd name,
Among his laurels wove this sacred bough,
Ennobling Valour with Devotion's flame,
And taught the warbled* Orison to flow,
As 'midst the taper'd choir the solemn priest
Chaunts to the victor saint high heav'n's eternal rest.
Here the firm Guardians of the public weal,
Inspir'd with Freedom's heav'n-descended flame,
Rose nobly faithfull to their country's fame;
In frequent + senates pour'd their ardent zeal,
Dash'd the base bribe from curs'd Corruption's hand,
And sav'd from tyrant pride the sinking land.
Or prompt to answer bleeding Europe's call,
To distant realms ‡ bore Britain's high behest,
Bade the sword sleep, gave gasping nations rést,
And taught the doubtfull balance where to fall.
But in the softer hour of social joy,

When ceas'd the high employ,

These woodland walks, these tufted dales among
The silver-sounding Muses built their bow'r,

* He was one of the Executors of Henry IV. he was also Executor to Henry V. of whom he obtained licence to found a chauntry Priest, to sing for the souls of that Prince and his Queen, and of his beloved Esquire John Wodehouse and his wife, their ancestors and posterity, either in the Cathedral Church of Norwich, or in the Charnel Chapel thereto belonging. This Chapel is now the school-room, in the vault under which he lies buried.

This family has served with inviolable integrity in twentyeight Parliaments; to seventeen of which they have been returned for the county of Norfolk.

Sir Thomas Wodehouse was sent Embassador to France by Henry VII.-Another Sir Thomas was sent into France, Spain, and Italy, to qualify himself for the highest employments, by Prince Henry, son to James I.

If history has not thought it beneath her dignity to record the musical accomplishments of Epaminondas, the Poet may be allowed

Ff 3

Made vocal with the lute-attempred song;
Whilst blooming courtesy's gold-spangled flow'r,
Cull'd by the graces, spread its brightest glow
To deck unswerving Honour's manly brow.

And you, age-honour'd oaks, whose solemn shades Inviron this fair mansion, proudly stand

The sacred* nourslings of Eliza's hand,
When she with sov'reign glory grac'd your glades,
And pleas'd beheld her + Boleyn's kindred line
Ennobled with your trophied honours shine.
Spring crestless cravens from such stocks as these?
Ask the pale Groyne, ask Tayo's trembling tide,
Ask Cadiz weeping o'er her ruin'd pride,
And Austria scourg'd o'er all the subject seas.
From this rich root my blooming branches spread,
And rais'd their florish'd head,

Chear'd with the princely || Henry's orient ray;
Till rising on the morn importune night

lowed to observe that this fine art has been much cultivated at Kimberley. Jenkins, the most celebrated Composer and Master of Music of his age, lived chiefly there, and lies buried in the church. "Musas et musicam studiose colens," is part of the ele gant monumental inscription on Sir Philip Wodehouse.

The venerable oaks upon the hill, where the house now stands, were planted in honour of Queen Elizabeth whilst she was at Kimberley, A. D. 1578.

+ Thomas Wodehouse, who was killed at Musselborough, mar ried a Shelton, whose mother was a Boleyn.

Sir Philip Wodehouse served Queen Elizabeth both by sea and land, at home, in Portugal, and in Spain: he was knighted for his service at Cadiz by the Earls of Essex and Nottingham, the Queen's Generals.

Sir Thomas Wodehouse was in great favour with Prince Henry, son to James I. and of his bed-chamber; upon whofe decease he retired to Kimberley. This high-spirited young Gentle. man was very unwilling that his father should accept a baronetage

from

Spreads her black veil, and blots his golden day
Darkness ensues, dark deeds, and impious might;
Whilst Discord, mounted on his iron car,
"Cries havoc, and lets slip the dogs of war,"

What then cou'd Virtue, "fall'n on evil days,
On evil days thus fall'n, and evil tongues,

With dangers compast," and opprest with wrongs,
Save to the wild woods breathe her plaintive lays,
And charm the shades, and teach the streams to flow
With all the melting melody of woe!

But what avail'd or voice, or tunefull hand,
When hell-bred Faction, rear'd on balefull wings
Stain'd with the blood of Nobles and of Kings,
Spread total desolation o'er the land?

Ah Kymber! where was then thy princely state?
Sunk in the gen'ral fate:

Thy rich roofs sunk o'er golden pendents spread;
Fastolf's white croslets moulder'd from the wall,

from James. Descended from a long and illustrious line of knights bannerets, he considered knighthood as an high honour from the King, and sacred to military glory; therefore held this new carpet order in contempt: Sir Philip entertamed the same sentiments, but being unwilling to disoblige the King, he submitted though with reluctance: thus the seventeenth knight banneret was the first baronet of the family.

* Alluding to these old verses, supposed of Sir Philip Wode house,

First fell Elizabeth's brave lodging roome,

Then the fair stately hall to ruin came;

Next falls the vast great chamber arch'd on high,

With golden pendents fretted sumptuously.

Yet of four parts three still remain'd the seat
Unto that heir who was first Baronet,

And to his son, till the long Parliament,
Nobles and Gentry sunk to discontent;
In which sad humour he lets all the rest
Of this fair fabrick sink into its dust;

Dow