Classic Poem

Upon the Death of the Lord Hastings sonn to the now Earl of Huntington

Is ther a Bright starr fallen from our Sphere
Yet none sets out some newer Kalender?
Doe the Orbs sleep in Silence? is the Skeam
Struck dumb at th'apprehention of such Theam?
I shall not challenge Booker heer, nor will I
Call up the Mathemat-like dreams of Lilly
To search the reasons, sift Prognosticks out
How this soe sad disaster came about
Since that to every one it is well known
The Best and pretiousest will soonst be gon
Such Greef by th'cause is haightned to excess
And wher that falls expression goes less
Yet if we'd skan why thus He's Hasting hence
His Name may guive you some intelligence
The world with Him this opposition had
He was too Good for it and that too bad.