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Another of the same.
A Satyre once did runne away for dread,
with sound of Horne, which he him-selfe did blow:
Fearing, and feared thus, from him-selfe hee fled,
deeming strange euill in that he did not know.
Such causelesse feares, when coward mindes doe take,
it makes them flie that which they faine would haue:
As this poore beast, who did his rest forsake,
thinking not why, but how him-selfe to saue.
Euen thus mought I, for doubts which I conceaue
of mine owne words, mine owne good hap betray:
And thus might I, for feare of may be, leaue
the sweet pursute of my desired pray.
Better like I thy Satire, dearest Dyer:
Who burnt his lips, to kisse faire shining fier.
FINIS.
S. Phil. Sidney.