An airy crowd came rushing where he stood,
Which filled the margin of the fateful flood—
* * * *
Thick as the leaves in autumn strew the woods,
Or fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods,
And wing their hasty flight to happier lands—
Such and so thick the shiv'ring army stands,
And press for passage with extended hands.
Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore:
The rest he drove to distance from the shore.