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!