The Strife of the Roses and Days of the Tudors in the WestRogers, W. H. Hamilton (William Henry Hamilton)
History
The Strife of the Roses and Days of the Tudors in the West
Rogers, W. H. Hamilton (William Henry Hamilton)
Great Britain -- History -- Tudors, 1485-1603; Great Britain -- History -- Wars of the Roses, 1455-1485
Richard Willoughby, third son of Sir John Willoughby of Broke, was of
Silton, Dorset, having married Isabel daughter of John Bedyke of that
place, who brought the manor to her husband. He died 1523, she 1524,
and both by their wills ordered their bodies to be buried in the
church of St. Nicholas there. They left several descendants.
Henry Willoughby's tomb at Southleigh has been carefully and
substantially repaired by a representative of the family.
Back to Beer-Ferrers again our thoughts return, and recall the memory
of our last visit to the antient home, successively of Ferrers,
Champernowne, and Willoughby, names all now extinct, that had
relationship there. Evening is creeping on, as we leave the little
jetty and find ourselves afloat, slowly making way out into the Tamar
proper. How many a story speaks to us of the past, from its dim cliffy
banks, that history and tradition have preserved, how many more,
silent and forgotten, are lost for ever. Such the doom and fate of
human life, little episodes on the stream of time, successive and
evanescent as the wavelets that rise and die against the bosom of our
little craft. Of Willoughby de Broke, a larger remembrance remains,
but it only points in a fuller sense to an often recurring issue of
human life, graphically summed up concerning them by the quaint old
historian Westcote,--"but this family fading in his very blossom, soon
came to his period."
TAMAR'S FLOW.
O Tamar's flow! lowly I bend mine ear,
And listen to thy lisp that greets the shore,
Bearing Tradition's burthen soft and clear,
From the dim portals of the never more;--
Two voices spell me from thy mingled tide,
One, mighty ocean's whisper, murmurous, deep,
Telling of ventures glorious, that hide
Within its billowy bosom rocked in sleep;--
The other, rippling from thy crystal fount,
A tinkle sweet of elves, and fays, and flowers,
Legends borne down from woodland, vale, and mount,
Departed homes, and haunted shrines and towers;--
Flow on,--until this trancèd ear shall be,
But one more memory that is merged in thee!
[Illustration: EFFIGY, PRESUMED TO REPRESENT
CICELY BONVILLE, MARCHIONESS OF DORSET.
ASTLEY CHURCH, WARWICKSHIRE--CIRCA 1530-5]
EXTINCT, FOR THE WHITE ROSE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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