I know you didn't ask, but I thought you might like these as well.
William De Birmingham
“Roger de Someri, lord of thine,
Baron of Dudley, master mine,
“From whom thou holdest lands in fee,
Suit and service claims of thee.”
William, knight of Birmingham town,
Strode his ramparts up and down.
“Now by St. Martin’s self,” he said,
“Where he Fitz-Ansculph stern and dread,
“And not but Paganall’s daughter’s mate,
I give him challenge and scorn and hate.
“Nor greet I him for a lord of mine,
So speed and tell him, this lord of thine,
“And since thy speech is so hotly said,
And thy master’s word is so swiftly sped,
“Thou has need of water to cool thy throat,
There is water enow in my castle moat”.
A struggle, a fall, a splash; I reck
That herald had need of a stouter neck.
William, knight of Birmingham town,
Hath quaffed red wine, and hath lain him down,
And “By St. Martin’s self” hath sworn
Penance meet for the morrow morn.
Saint Martin hath leaped from his holy shrine
And come in the night for a secret sign.
The flaming sword in his outstretched hand,
Hath touched the knight as a burning brand.
“Since penance thou hast sworn to do,
I will spare thee yet for a year or two.
“Yet when thou art come to thy greatest pride
Bethink thee, then, how the herald died.”
William, knight of Birmingham town,
Hath armed against King Henry’s crown;
Hath clasped Earl Leicester’s hand, and worn
The peoples cross for the battle morn.
And Roger de Someri, Dudley’s lord,
Yields him captive and yields his sword.
What voice was that in the night that cried,
“Bethink thee, now, how the herald died?”
Saint Martin’s self, with his sword in hand
Hath touched the knight as a burning brand.
And every breeze of the night hath cried,
“Bethink thee, now, the herald died.”
“At Evesham fight”-so runs the writ
Never a word of truth hath it.
They found his body by Severn’s strand,
Burnt, as it were, by a flaming brand.
Note.-William de Birmingham having neglected his services to his Overlord the Baron of Dudley, and defied him, joined Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, in his conflict with King Henry III, with whom Dudley was sided. De Birmingham took Lord Dudley captive, but at the Battle of Evesham soon afterwards, De Montfort was defeated, and De Birmingham was slain, avenged by St. Martin for the slaying of one of Lord Dudley’s Messengers to him.
Edward Bermingham
God, of His mercy, give his grace
To Edward, last of the ancient race.
And God, of his justice, smite with sword,
Dudley, perjured in deed and word.
“False as Dudley is false,” so tell
The angels lost in the depths of hell
With stifled breath, as they watch afar
The rise of his monstrous, baleful star.
Yet they glee that the headsman stands in wait
With his trappings black at the Dudley gate.
Woe that my father died, that I
Should come to his lands and my doom thereby.
Had’st thou seized my lands with thy strong right hand,
‘Twere a simple theft that thy greed had planned.
Had’st thou fought and slain, as a knight had slayed,
The Monks my soul to Heaven had prayed;
But that thou should’st compass me round about
With the idle knaves of thy thieving rout,
That base suborners should swear to shame
The last of an ancient, stainless name.
And that thou, of thy mercy, my life would’st spare,
O, more is this than a man might bear.
Glad was the morn as I rode in pride,
From my father’s hold, o’er the road so wide-
As travellers grave and meetly drest
Came five or six of thy knaves confest,
And rode beside and spake with joy,
How gifts were good in my lord’s employ-
And betimes a horseman came in sight,
And these knaves of thine, in the open light,
Stayed him, spoiled him, and stole his purse;
He chased them all with a seeming curse
And swore, thy servant, so bold was he,
That I had aided their knavery.
It is little, God knows! To have sworn away
A life in the Kings High Court to-day.
But that thou, of thy mercy, should’st give me grace;
That thou might’st rule in my fathers place;
“No thanks, my lord.” Men say anew,
Never a Dudley yet was true.
And always the headsman stands in wait
With his trappings black at the Dudley gate.
Now God, of His mercy, give His grace
To Edward, last of the ancient race.
Note.-Last of the de Berminghams, born in 1497. Succeeded to the estates when three years old, becoming ward to Edward Sutton, Lord of Dudley. In 1528 he was falsely accused by John Dudley of robbing one of his tenants. The next year his estates were seized, and in 1532 he was arrested and imprisoned in the Tower of London, where he was detained until 1536, when he was released after forfeiting his estates. He was a victim of a plot of John Dudley, afterwards Duke of Northumberland, to seize his possessions as above stated.
Pipone
I would love to see the other drawings if you could post them on the site.
