All here to John appear’d both strange, and new,
He knew not what to say, nor what to do;
Which way to turn, nor whom he should accost,—
Poor John amidst the motley Crew was lost.
Here groupes of Soldiers, in light converse stood,
Some he saw cooking, others fetching Wood.
And here, and there, were seen a huddled heap,
In spite of scorching Sun, all fast asleep.
And now a crowd of Officers he sees,
On Rocky fragments sitting at their ease.