You will have heard of the Brown Hill Hoard

Our worthy warrior prince, a well-loved shield brother, great in battle,
High born in the blood of Woden and Offa, wielding war-gear,
ripped with terrible and bitter blows from fearless men,
now Hell possessed, fell breathe-choked at the Brown Hill.

Wary and fearful of the Danes in the East, and reaching into the forest,
the hoard, no less great than his many hard-won and famed victories,
is slipped under the forest floor, out of harm’s way.
Safe in the earth’s keeping, the hard won scrap-gold rests.

What treasures: bright red stones from far distant lands, all wrapped in gold; the crumpled cross of the Wielder of Glory; and Beasts of The Book.
War-gear wrought with skill: sword-fixings; hilts; cheek-pieces; arm-bands.
The finest war-trappings of the finest men, battle-fallen and gone.

In time a finder comes, Walh halh born, a wood-skilled earth-scourer,
scrap-finder of renown, following the ploughman, a son of John.
Around his Feast Day he tilled the treasure, unlocked the hoard.
Now all hail the ancient and forgotten sword-heroes of middle earth.

P.S. The nearest museum to Brownhills is at Walh halh and context is everything: http://www.thenewartgallerywalsall.org.uk/about