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THE CHALLENGE.

A COURT BALLA D.

To the Tune of "To all you Ladies now at Land, &c."

I.

o one fair lady out of court,

And two fair ladies in,

Who think the Turk and Popet a sport,.

And wit and love no fin;

Come, these soft lines, with nothing stiff in,
To Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin.

With a fa, la, la.

II.

What paffes 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 finful hack,
Where many damfels cry alack.
With a fa, la, la.

III. Then

NOTES.

Ulrick, the little Turk.

+ The Author,

III.

Then why to courts fhould I repair,
Where's fuch ado with Townshend?
To hear each mortal stamp and swear,
And ev'ry speech with Zounds end ;
To hear 'em rail at honeft Sunderland,
And rafhly 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 flim fhe's grown,
Like Meadows run to fermons ;
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 difcern,
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 fup with us on milk and quiet.
With a fa, la, la.

* Ireland.

VI.

At Leicester-Fields, a house full high, With door all painted green,

Where ribbons wave upon the tye,

(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 fhou'd

you catch the prudish itch,

And each become a coward,

Bring fometimes with you lady Rich,

And fometimes mistress Howard;

For virgins to keep chafte must

go

Abroad with fuch as are not fo.

With a fa, la, la.

VIII.

And thus, fair maids, my ballad ends;
God fend the king fafe landing*;
And make all honeft ladies friends
To armies that are standing;
Preferve the limits of these nations,

And take off ladies limitations.

With a fa, la, la.

*This Ballad was written anno 1717.

THE THREE GENTLE SHEPHERDS.

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F gentle Philips will I ever fing,

With gentle Philips fhall the vallies 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 fatire ne'er befool ye, or beknave ye,
And from all wits that have a knack, God fave

ye.

MR. POPE's WELCOME FROM GREECE.

A Copy of Verfes, written by Mr. GAY upon Mr. POPE'S having finished his Translation of HOMER'S ILIAD.

Lo

I.

ONG haft thou, friend! been absent from thy foil,
Like patient Ithacus at fiege of Troy;

I have been witnefs of thy fix years toil,

Thy daily labours, and thy night's annoy, Loft to thy native land, with great turmoil,

On the wide fea, oft threat'ning to destroy: Methinks with thee I've trod Sigaean ground, And heard the fhores of Hellefpont refound.

II.

Did I not fee thee when thou firft fett'ft fail

To feek adventures fair in Homer's land?

Did I not see thy finking 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 faintly choir, Back to the port to bring thy bark entire.

5

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