The Challenge: A Court Ballad poem – Alexander Pope

A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) , the greatest English poet of “Augustan” or Georgian period

I.

To one fair lady out of Court,

And two fair ladies in,

Who think the Turk and Pope a sport,

And wit and love no sin!

Come, these soft lines, with nothing stiff in,

To Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin.

With a fa, la, la.

II.

What passes in the dark third row,

And what behind the scene,

Couches and crippled chairs I know,

And garrets hung with green;

I know the swing of sinful hack,

Where many damsels cry alack.

With a fa, la, la.

III.

Then why to Courts should I repair,

Where’s such ado with Townsend?

To hear each mortal stamp and swear,

And every speech with “Zounds” end;

To hear them rail at honest Sunderland,

And rashly blame the realm of Blunderland.

With a fa, la, la.

IV.

Alas! like Schutz I cannot pun,

Like Grafton court the Germans;

Tell Pickenbourg how slim she’s grown,

Like Meadows run to sermons;

To court ambitious men may roam,

But I and Marlbro’ stay at home.

With a fa, la, la.

V.

In truth, by what I can discern,

Of courtiers, ‘twixt you three,

Some wit you have, and more may learn

From Court, than Gay or Me:

Perhaps, in time, you’ll leave high diet,

To sup with us on milk and quiet.

With a fa, la, la.

VI.

At Leicester Fields, a house full nigh,

With door all painted green,

(A Milliner, I mean);

There may you meet us three to three,

For Gay can well make two of Me.

With a fa, la, la.

VII.

But should you catch the prudish itch,

And each become a coward,

Bring sometimes with you lady Rich,

And sometimes mistress Howard;

For virgins, to keep chaste, must go

Abroad with such as are not so.

With a fa, la, la.

VIII.

And thus, fair maids, my ballad ends;

God send the king safe landing;

And make all honest ladies friends

To armies that are standing;

Preserve the limits of those nations,

And take off ladies’ limitations.

With a fa, la, la.

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Poems in English 

• Robert Burns: The Winter It Is Past: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To Daunton Me: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Talk Of Him That’s Far Awa: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Lad They Ca’Jumpin John: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Duncan Davison : by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Hey, The Dusty Miller: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: How Long And Dreary Is The Night : by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Up In The Morning Early: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Raving Winds Around Her Blowing: I composed these verses on Miss Isabella M’Leod of Raza, alluding to her feelings on the death of her sister, and the still more melancholy death of her sister’s husband, the late Earl of Loudoun, who shot himself out of sheer heart-break at some mortifications he suffered, owing to the deranged state of his finances.-R.B., 1971. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: My Hoggie: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Stay My Charmer: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: M’Pherson’s Farewell: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To The Weavers Gin Ye Go: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: I’m O’er Young To Marry Yet: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Clarinda, Mistress Of My Soul: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Go On, Sweet Bird, And Sooth My Care: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Love In The Guise Of Friendship: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Sylvander To Clarinda: Extempore Reply to Verses addressed to the Author by a Lady, under the signature of “Clarinda” and entitled, On Burns saying he ‘had nothing else to do.’ by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On The Death Of Robert Dundas, Esq., Of Arniston,: Late Lord President of the Court of Session. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Birthday Ode For 31st December, 1787: by Robert Burns

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