THE MUSES IN MASQUERADE;

OR

A VISION OF CATSKILL.

Once on a time,

And once upon the Catskill mountain, Where a small cat'ract spits-a thin cascade, Like a white water-spectre, oozes,

THE MUSES,

In frolic, fun, and fashion to surpass us,
Had left Parnassus,

To be above par in a Masquerade!

'Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb '
To Catskill's top?

The Hack that pants to reach the 'Horse's fountain,
Where ropes are requisite to pull the wretch up—
Preserve all animals from such a pickle,
Where they must wish their throats to tickle,
To get Jack Ketch-up,

And hang their heads ere they can get a drop.
Like Fishermen-the Muses did profess
The science of Myology-

That is to move the muscles into liveliness