THE CHALLENGE. A COURT BALLAD. To the Tune of "To all you Ladies now at Land," &c. I. To one fair lady out of court, And two fair ladies in, Who think the Turk* and Popet 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, III. Then why to courts should I repair, NOTES. 1 Ulrick, the little Turk. The Author. To hear 'em 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; To court ambitious men may roam, V. In truth, by what I can discern, Perhaps, in time, you'll leave high diet, To With a fa, la, la. VI. At Leicester-Fields, a house full high, (A Milliner I mean ;) There may you meet us three to three, With a fa, la, la. 3 Ireland. VII. But should you catch the prudish itch, And each become a coward, Bring sometimes with you lady Rich, For virgins to keep chaste must go VIII. And thus, fair maids, my ballad ends; With a fa, la, la. This Ballad was written anno 1717. THE THREE GENTLE SHEPHERDS. Or gentle Philips will I ever sing, With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring. My numbers too for ever will I vary, With gentle Budgell, and with gentle Carey. Or if in ranging of the names I judge ill, With gentle Carey and with gentle Budgell, Oh ! may all gentle bards together place ye, Men of good hearts, and men of delicacy. May satire ne'er befool ye, or beknave ye, And from all wits that have a knack, God save ye, MR. POPE'S WELCOME FROM GREECE. A Copy of Verses, written by MR. GAY upon MR. POPE'S having finished his Translation of HOMER'S ILIAD. I. LONG hast thou, friend! been absent from thy soil, Like patient Ithacus at siege of Troy; I have been witness of thy six years' toil, Thy daily labours, and thy night's annoy, Lost to thy native land, with great turmoil, On the wide sea, oft threat'ning to destroy: Methinks with thee I've trod Sigæan ground, And heard the shores of Hellespont resound. II. Did I not see thee when thou first sett'st sail 5 To seek adventures fair in Homer's land? Did I not see thy sinking spirits fail, And wish thy bark had never left the strand? Ev'n in mid ocean often didst thou quail, And oft lift up thy holy eye and hand, Praying the Virgin dear, and saintly choir, Back to the port to bring thy bark entire. III. Cheer up, my friend, thy dangers now are o'er; Hark how the guns salute from either shore, 10 15 20 |