What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things, I sing--This verse to Caryll,[367] Muse! is due: This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view:[368] Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, 5 If she inspire, and he approve my lays.[369] Say what strange motive, goddess! could compel[370] A well-bred lord[371] t' assault a gentle belle? O say what stranger cause, yet unexplored, Could make a gentle belle reject a lord? 10 In tasks so bold, can little men engage, And in soft bosoms, dwells such mighty rage?[372] Sol through white curtains shot a tim'rous[373] ray,[374] And ope'd those eyes that must eclipse the day: Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake, 15 And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake: Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knocked the ground,[375] And the pressed watch returned a silver sound. Belinda still her downy pillow pressed,[376] Her guardian sylph prolonged the balmy rest: 20 'Twas he had summoned to her silent bed The morning dream that hovered o'er her head, A youth more glitt'ring than a birth-night beau,[377] (That ev'n in slumber caused her cheek to glow) Seemed to her ear his winning lips to lay, 25 And thus in whispers said, or seemed to say. "Fairest of mortals, thou distinguished care Of thousand bright inhabitants of air! If e'er one vision touched thy infant thought, Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught; 30 Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen, The silver token, and the circled green,[378] Or virgins visited by angel-pow'rs With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly flow'rs; Hear and believe! thy own importance know, 35 Nor bound thy narrow views to things below. Some secret truths, from learned pride concealed, To maids alone and children are revealed. What though no credit doubting wits may give? The fair and innocent shall still believe. 40 Know then, unnumbered spirits round thee fly, The light militia of the lower sky: These, though unseen, are ever on the wing, Hang o'er the box, and hover round the ring.[379] Think what an equipage thou hast in air, 45 And view with scorn two pages and a chair. As now your own, our beings were of old, And once inclosed in woman's beauteous mould; Thence, by a soft transition, we repair From earthly vehicles to these of air. 50 Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled, That all her vanities at once are dead;[380] Succeeding vanities she still regards, And though she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards.