REMONSTRATORY ODE, FROM THE ELEPHANT AT EXETER CHANGE, TO MR. MATHEWS AT THE ENGLISH OPERA-HOUSE. He beckons you to a more removed ground."- Hamlet. [WRITTEN BY A FRIEND.] Он, Mr. Mathews! Sir! (If a plain elephant may speak his mind, I long have thought, and wished to say, that we By being such near neighbours, My keeper now hath lent me pen and ink, The whole menagerie is in repose, The Coatamundi is in his Sunday clothes, 'Gainst the wet tin; And the confined old Monkey's in the straw: Slumbering in milk, and sighing; Miss Cross is sipping ox-tail soup, In her front coop, So here's the happy mid-day moment ;—yes, A word or two To you On the subject of the ruin which must come By both being in the Strand, and both at home On the same nights; two treats So very near each other, As, oh my brother! To play old gooseberry with both receipts. When you begin Your summer fun, three times a week, at eight, I feel a change in Exeter 'Change's change. To ring my bell, when you ring yours, and go, But crowds that meant to see me eat a stack, A root of mangel-wurzel with my foot, Pick from the floor small coins, And then turn slowly round and show my India-rubber loins : 'Tis strange-most strange, but true, That these same crowds seek you! Pass my abode and pay at your next door! With anguish when I think of this; I go My fatal funny foe! And when I stoop, as duty bids, I sigh And feel that, while poor elephantine I, Pick up a sixpence, you pick up the pounds! Could you not go? Could you not take the Cobourg or the Surrey? I never am!) for the next season ?-oh! To both of us, if we remain ; for not No true great person (and we both are great In Mr. Cross's cart; But, like Othello, "am not easily moved." And more conveniently near your home; Or get a room in the City-in some street- Any large place, in short, in which to get your bread; Me into the Gazette ! Ah! The Gazette ! I press my forehead with my trunk, and wet From my wise eyes, To think of ruin after prosperous years. What a dread case would be For me-large me! To meet at Basinghall Street, the first and seventh To cringe, and to surrender, Like a criminal offender, All my effects-my bell-pull, and my bell, And have some curious commissioner With rage, to find a tiger in possession The truth is simply this,-if you will stay Filling your rows Just at my feeding time, to see your play, My mind's made up, No more at nine I sup, Except on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays. Sundays, From eight to eleven, As I hope for heaven, On Thursdays, and on Saturdays, and Mondays, And, mark me! all my friends of the furry snout We will be heard-we'll spoil Insolvency must ensue To you, Sir, you; Unless you move your opposition shop, I have no more to say :-I do not write And they detest your "Memorandum-book." A voice to me belongs; (The Editors of the Globe and Traveller ring With praises of it, when I hourly sing God save the King.) If such a bargain could be schemed, I'd strike it! I'm large about the hip! Now think of this !-for we cannot go on As next door rivals, that my mind declares : I must be pennyless, or you be gone! I am a friend or foe As you take this; Let me your profitable hubbub miss, Or be it "Mathews, Elephant, and Co. !” FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY. A PATHETIC BALLAD. I. BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold, II. Now as they bore him off the field, 111. The army-surgeons made him limbs : IV. Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, |