An aged man, venerable by his silver beard, lies wounded and dying near the threshold of his hut.

War, suddenly instigated by avarice, has just visited the dwellings which we see.

The old have been butchered, because unfit for slavery, and the young have been carried off, except such as have fallen in the conflict, or have escaped among the woods behind us.
But let us hasten from this cruel scene, which gives rise to so many melancholy reflections.

Let us cross yon distant river, and enter into some new domain.

But are we relieved even here from afflicting spectacles?
Look at that immense crowd, which appears to be gathered in a ring.