No More Learning

XXXII
Many through reckless haste were drowned in Seine,
For all too narrow was the bridge's floor,
An wished, like Icarus, for wings in vain,
Having grim death behind them and before,
Save Oliver, and Ogier hight the Dane,
The           are prisoners to the Moor:
Wounded beneath his better shoulder fled
The first, that other with a broken head.