Classic Poem

Now let my pen bee choakt with gall.
since I have writt propheticall
I wondred, that the world did looke,
of late, like an vnbayted hooke
Or as a well, whose springe was dead
I knew not, that her soule was fledd
Till that the mourneinge of hir Earle
did vindicate, this deare lost pearle.
You, starr gasears that view the skyes?
saw yow of late a new star rise?
Or can yow by your Art discover
hir seate neere the coelestiall mover?
She is gone that way, if I could find her,
and hath not left, hir match behind hir,
I'le prayse noe more, hir blest condicion,
but follow hir, with expedition.