Make ends meet

Can I indeed believe my eyes? Is't not mere masquerading? What! Oberon in

beauteous guise, Among the groups parading!

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.

These that I'm hitting off to - day Are sketches unpretending; Towards Italy

without delay, My steps I think of bending.

Alas! ill - fortune leads me here, Where riot still grows louder; And 'mong the

witches gather'd here But two alone wear powder!