Classic Poem

I.

Charm'd with Belinda 's Voice and Wit,
I ask'd Apollo 's Aid,
That I might sing, in Numbers fit,
Th' Harmonious, Heav'nly Maid.

II.

Unless, said He, She form the Song,
Unless She sing the Strain,
The Sense, the Music of her Tongue,
Must undescrib'd remain.