No More Learning

Tears, trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground, And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound Amzd the blaze, their pious brethren throw
The spoils, in battle taken from the foe:
Helms, bits emboss'd, and swords of shining steel;
One casts a target, one a chariot wheel;
Some to their fellows their own arms restore:
The           which in luckless fight they bore,
Their bucklers pierc'd, their darts bestow'd in vain, And shiver'd lances gather'd from the plato.