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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