And, with their little hands, they veil their eyes.
XXIII.
Full in the front of that vast multitude,
Beyond an arrow’s flight their skiff they stayed;
A sudden silence hushed the listening wood;
The crowds all paused, and with wild eyes surveyed
The pale-faced group, which in like stillness viewed
The wondering throngs. At length the woodland glade
Moves with their numbers; down the banks they pour,
Swarming and gathering on the dark’ning shore.