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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot]

... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes

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76

ODE TO THE ELEPHANT,

Just arrived from Bengal, as a Present from the Nabob of Arcot to her Majesty.

Poor fellow! thou art come, but come in vain;
And mayst as well, methinks, go back again!
Thy meat and passage give our court the spleen:
Dear, very dear, is now all sort of meat;
And all such luckless presents as can eat
Have found no favour yet with k--- or q---.
Now hadst thou been a diamond (no bad size),
Or pearl, or ruby, how the royal eyes
Had idoliz'd thee! gloried to behold!
Rather too bulky for a broche, I fear,
Or pin, or pretty pendant for the ear—
But then thou wouldst have been cut up and sold.
Yes! thou hadst then been welcome—but, alas!
Since nought but flesh and blood! then munching grass,
And what is most insufferable, corn;
Such sad expenses never can be borne.
Of Windsor, Richmond, Kew, the helpless poor,
Whose plaints have made the royal eyes run o'er,
Live on their gracious bounty ev'ry day:
For them their Graces ope their golden bags;
To good warm broad-cloth change their dirty rags,
And round their hovel cast a royal ray.
Seek then thy glooms again, and dusky loves—
The Great Mogul perhaps of eastern groves.

77

A crying sin, O elephant, is thine—
Thy stomach form'd on such a monstrous scale!
Ev'n Strelitz people, who in eating shine,
Not quite like thee with heavy loads regale.
Yet not to Strelitz be deny'd applause:
Wide are their mouths, and sack-like are their maws.
Yet if resolv'd to live with queens and kings;
While meat and drink are such expensive things;
Pull out thy stomach, cut away thy snout,
And try, poor fellow, try to live without.