ON AN OLD ROMAN SHIELD FOUND IN THE THAMES (2)

[ZaunköniG]

ON AN OLD ROMAN SHIELD FOUND IN THE THAMES

Drown'd for long ages, lost to human reach,
At last the Roman buckler reappears,
And makes an old-world clang upon the beach,
Its first faint voice for many a hundred years ;
Not the weird noises on the battle-field
Of Marathon, as thrilling legends tell.
Could speak more sadly than this ancient shield,
As ringing at the fisher's feet it fell.
How cam'st thou to be grappled thus, and haul'd
To shore, when other prey was sought, not thou?
How strangely was thy long-lost chime recall'd,
As when the arrows struck thee ! Then, as now.
The tented plain was throng'd with armed men ;
Our weapons change, we quarrel now as then !


ON THE SAME.

He drew it home—he heaved it to the bank —
No modern waif, but an old Roman targe ;
The mild familiar swan in terror shrank
From the rude plash, and left the weltering marge.
Low rang the iron boss ; the fisher stared
At his new capture, while, in mystic tones,
The lost shield call'd its legion, whose death-groans
And clash of onset it had seen and heard.
Oh ! when shall better thoughts be dear to man.
Than rapine and ambition, fraud and hate ?
Oh ! when shall War, like this old buckler, fall
Into disuse, drown'd by its own dead weight ?
And Commerce, buoyant as the living swan.
Push boldly to the shore, the friend of all ?