Tiny step and lofty bound,
Through dew and exhalation;
Ye trip it deftly on the ground,
But gain no elevation.
INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER
Can I indeed believe my eyes?
Is't not mere masquerading?
What! Oberon in beauteous guise,
Among the groups parading!
ORTHODOX
No claws, no tail to whisk about,
To fright us at our revel;
Yet like the gods of Greece, no doubt,
He too's a genuine devil.
NORTHERN ARTIST
These that I'm hitting off today
Are sketches unpretending;
Toward Italy without delay,
My steps I think of bending.
PURIST
Alas! ill-fortune leads me here,
Where riot still grows louder;
And 'mong the witches gather'd here,
But two alone wear powder!