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Fly, fly, my Friends

Philip Sidney

Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound; fly,
See there that boy, that murthring boy I say,
Who like a thief, hid in dark bush doth lie,
Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey.

So tyran he no fitter place could spy,
Nor so fair level in so secret stay,
As that sweet black which veils the heavnly eye:
There himself with his shot he close doth lay.

Poor passenger, pass now thereby I did,
And stayed pleasd with the prospect of the place,
While that black hue from me the bad guest hid:
But straight I saw motions of lightning grace,

And then I descried the glistring of his dart:
But ere I could fly thence, it piercd my heart.

Astrophil and Stella [20]

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